


What He'd Lost

by Chlodxyeah



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Aunt May is dead, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Graphic Description of Self-Harm, Homophobic Language, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Has Depression, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is 24, Peter Self Harms, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Spideypool - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wade Wilson is a Good Bro, trigger warning, very emotional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chlodxyeah/pseuds/Chlodxyeah
Summary: 'Wade knew what wanting to hurt yourself felt like. He understood completely how it felt to be so alone and so overwhelmed that pain is the only thing that helps.Wade understood it, but he never thought he’d recognise it in Spider-Man.'orPeter Parker needs help but refuses to ask for it. Wade takes it upon himself to get Spider-Man the help he so desperately deserves.Trigger Warning: This fic has very graphic descriptions of self harm, depression and suicidal feelings. Pls don't read if these things could impact you negatively!





	1. Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fellas!  
As usual with my fics I have not been specific with what version of Spidey this is based on so pls feel free to imagine whoever you fancy. Writing is still not really my forte so pls be kind! Updates will be as often as possible and most of the fic is already written so it shouldn't be too sporadic :)  
And finally, pls be vigilant, this fic is kinda sad and deals with some very intense issues. Be sure to read all the tags and be careful if you might be triggered by any of these issues! Stay safe bbs.  
Enjoy!

Peter never felt as alone as he did when he was surrounded by crowds of people.

It made riding the subway difficult, but it was January and his work day had been long, it was too cold for spandex, too cold for swinging. Peter stood on the crowded train hoping to _ God _that the ground would just swallow him up right there and then.

To an outsider, Peter knew it must look like he had the perfect life. He’d graduated college with top marks, he was working for a prestigious newspaper, he had super powers and was praised by most of New York City.

On paper, he had it all. 

Unfortunately, having all those things did not make up for what he had lost. 

Mom.

Dad.

Uncle Ben.

Aunt May.

Gwen.

Peter had come to terms with the fact that maybe he just wasn’t meant to feel happiness or contentment, those were emotions reserved for other people. Better people than him.

As Spider-Man he was known for his quick wit, his sarcasm and his willingness to stop and joke with members of the public. He was a carrier of the disease known as happiness. It was the only way he could think to make anything better, forget about himself, focus on helping others. 

But sometimes he forgot about himself for _ too long _.

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he looked in the mirror and felt happy, he couldn’t even remember the last time he looked in the mirror and felt indifferent. He _ hated _his body with all his might. 

At 24, with the amount of exercise he did, Peter should have been lean and muscular. Instead, he was _ bony _. His ribs showed and his hips protruded, the muscle he’d managed to keep was sinewy and looked out of place. He knew he should eat more, he knew he could be fit again, but Peter just didn’t get hungry like he used to, it was never intentional.

The scars that littered his body, however, definitely _ were _intentional. 

He had picked up the habit a little over 2 years ago, after college, after Aunt May died. 

The habit started as an accident. He’d been out on patrol, swung around a corner a little too sharply and crashed into a dumpster. The edge of the dumpster was sharp and cut into the soft skin of his upper thigh. 

The cut itself hadn’t been too severe, around 3 inches long and a couple of millimeters deep, but the euphoria Peter felt as he saw the blood begin to bubble up and drip from the wound had been like nothing else he’d felt before. As the blood fell Peter could feel the anxiety leave his body, it felt like he could finally breathe again for the first time in_ so _many years. 

As with every addiction, things had progressed since then. What began as small cuts to his thighs with a blunt kitchen knife had advanced to wide gashes that consistently needed stitches. Something that Peter had since become somewhat of an expert in.

Nobody knew how deeply he was struggling, he was good at putting on a cheerful facade, but things were getting tiring and Peter didn’t know how much longer he could keep this double life up.

There were just over a handful of people that Peter spoke to regularly. Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, J. Jonah Jameson, the girl who worked at the coffee shop and Wade Wilson. Not a single one of them had a clue about his personal life. Tony, Clint, Natasha and Wade simply knew him as Spider-Man, he bantered with them, helped them on missions, patrolled with them. That was it, they thought he was happy. 

J. Jonah Jameson, Peter’s boss, knew him as ‘Parker’, just the guy that took photos of Spider-Man, the guy that he yelled at every day of the week. 

The girl at the coffee shop, Lily, was different. She knew him as Peter, the graduate, the coffee addict, the good tipper. 

Peter used to think he had a crush on Lily, she was beautiful. Her dark skin was flawless and her deep red braids brought out the different shades of amber in her eyes. She was stunning. But Peter had been ultimately disappointing when on their first and only date, he came to the sudden realisation that while she was incredibly attractive, he wasn’t attracted _ to _her.

It was a gruelling process, but that date had instilled the awareness that he wasn’t necessarily physically attracted to women _ at all _.

He’d loved Gwen with all his heart, but their love was far more platonic than Peter ever noticed. He still saw Lily nearly every day, she was a wonderful girl and Pete liked her a lot, but when they spoke it was simply the pleasantries. The weather, what book she was reading, how work was going etc.

Pete wondered often what it must be like to have friends that he could actually confide in. It had been such a long time since he had allowed anybody into his life that the simple thought of someone knowing his favourite colour seemed insanely intimate to him now. It was something he so desperately wanted but just didn’t know how to get it. 

The realm of friendship always seemed _ just _out of his grasp.

The announcement of his station from the train tannoy shook Peter from his thoughts and he quickly managed to squeeze between two large men to reach the door before it opened. 

Peter’s day had been long and work had been rough and all he wanted to do was sleep, but unfortunately there was no rest for the wicked. And especially no rest for Spider-Man. 

Finally home, he donned a layer of thermal clothes underneath his Spidey suit and set off into the night. Winter in New York City was unrelenting and fierce and far too cold for the simple layer of spandex.

He’d settled into patrolling every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. It gave him two days to get on with any work he needed to do for the Bugle and also left him with very little spare time.

He liked it that way. 

Spare time meant more time overthinking. It meant more time feeling empty, alone, like he knew he’d always be.

Patrol was dull, painfully dull and Peter watched the sun fall behind the horizon from the crane he was perched upon. Why, whenever he was having an extra shitty day, did every criminal in New York decide to be on their best behaviour? 

He just needed a distraction, literally anything, just to stop his mind from moving at a million miles a minute. He wasn’t sure when he had become so reliant on distraction to keep him from breaking down. Had it been his uncle’s murder? Gwen’s death? 

Maybe it had been watching May die slowly and painfully in a hospital bed where he had no control. 

Cancer. Fuck cancer. 

It always started this way, Peter blaming cancer for May’s death and coming to the realisation that if he blamed cancer, then he had to blame himself for Gwen and Ben’s deaths. They had been his fault after all, as much as it was cancer’s fault that May was dead.

He could feel his breath catch in his throat whenever he thought about the people he’d lost. Peter knew he was a curse, that everyone around him would inevitably die. It stopped him getting close to people, even if he really wanted to. He couldn’t deal with any more deaths on his conscience. He was a plague. He didn’t deserve anyone to help him.

By now, Peter knew the signs of a panic attack very well. It had been several years since his first one and he’d become hauntingly familiar with them. He could feel the signs creeping up on him as he tried to slow his breathing.

Not only did Peter know the signs of when he was beginning to have a panic attack, but he also knew how to _ end one _ . His method was self destructive, but honestly, when had Peter been anything _ but _self destructive?

\---------

Peter wasn’t sure when he’d ended up on the rooftop, he didn’t know where he’d found the piece of broken glass. All he knew was that he was gripping the shard like his life depended on it. 

This happened often, Peter’s body did things but his brain couldn’t remember the actual process of doing it. He knew he must’ve swung here, but when he tried to remember, his mind was just blank. He was sat on a crane having a panic attack and then suddenly he was sat on a rooftop in Manhattan. Poof, like magic. 

He knew it wasn’t healthy.

His stomach twisted with panic harshly, bringing him back to reality, and he stared down at the glass in his hand, fuck, here we go again. 

Pete glanced around him as he pulled off his left glove and rolled the sleeve of his suit up to his elbow. This wasn’t where he usually cut, but his chest felt tight and his stomach churned with anxiety. If he didn’t cut now Peter was sure that the anxiety would eat him alive from the inside out.

The first press of the glass on the pale skin of his inner forearm was strikingly painful. The glass dragged along his skin, catching a little as it hadn’t been as sharp as Peter had originally thought. He repeated the action four more times over the same area. That’s when the relief came, the relief was strongly tied to the blood he could see spilling over his smooth skin.

Through the blood Peter could see small yellow fat nodules. The first time he’d cut this deep it had damn near made him faint. But now, _ now _ Peter didn’t even class it as worth it unless he could see the inner workings of his body. He was a mess but he couldn’t help it. He _ craved _ it.

Peter savoured every minute of the solace he felt as he placed the piece of glass back on the floor. He lay back onto the concrete of the roof and sighed. The panic in his mind was quiet for the first time that day.

His stomach felt still.

His mind was silent. 

His chest was light. 

He wished he could feel like this all the time.

Everything was just so beautifully **calm**. 

His blood ran over the concrete of the rooftop and Pete loved it. The warmth of the liquid against the freezing cold of the air put Peter’s entire mind at ease. 

**Why would he ever give this up?**

But of course, all good things must come to an end. 

_ “Spidey?” _

Oh, **fuck**.

.

Peter felt like someone had punched through his skin, grabbed his stomach and twisted. 

Everything came pouring back, the anxiety, the panic, the desperate hopelessness. With a simple word from across the roof, he felt his entire body seize. Why the fuck hadn’t his spidey-sense warned him?

Peter jumped to his feet and pulled his sleeve down swiftly with futile hope that the man across the roof had not seen what was there. Of course, he had, and when Peter finally lifted his head he saw Deadpool staring back at him. 

How did he manage to look confused, even with the mask on? Pete dropped his gaze again, focussing on the pool of blood next to his feet. _ His _blood. It calmed him slightly. Even through all the mania, Peter managed feel a drowsy sense of accomplishment about the amount of blood that he’d spilled.

“Spidey?” Deadpool repeated.

“‘Sup, Wade.” Peter’s voice sounded hollow and he still didn’t look at the man. He hoped Deadpool would just ignore it, that he’d brush over it and go patrol somewhere else once he realised that Peter wasn’t interested in bantering with him tonight. 

Wade was an unusual guy, Spider-Man had known him for a while and knew that he talked to himself often, mayve Wade would maybe think he was hallucinating and leave? After all, this was very out of character for Spider-Man, right? Right? 

Unfortunately for Peter, Wade didn’t leave, or brush past it. 

“How long?” Wade whispered. It made Pete look up. 

How long what? How long had he cut? How long had he kept it a secret? How long had he been bleeding? What?

“How long what?” Pete matched Wade’s whisper.

How long had he lied? How long had he been a coward that couldn’t deal with his emotions like a regular adult? How long had he been a self harming freak?

“How long have you felt like... this?” Deadpool’s reply was gentle, a complete juxtaposition to his usual hyperactive self. It gave Peter whiplash. 

Peter’s mind was reeling. The cat was out of the bag. Wade knew. The internal dilemma of whether to tell the truth or just lie again raged in his mind so loud that he was surprised that Wade couldn’t physically hear it.

“I can’t remember not feeling like this.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even stop them.

The truth. Pete was surprised by how easy it had actually been to just let it out, but he had to admit that he almost instantly regretted it.

Deadpool didn’t reply for what felt like a very long time. 

Peter had known Wade Wilson for six years and this was the first time he’d ever seen the older man _ this _ quiet in his presence when they weren’t eating.

Eventually the older man stepped a little closer to Pete, his hands raised in the air slightly, as if trying to show a scared animal that he wasn’t going to hurt them. 

Pete didn’t react when Deadpool pulled him into his arms for a hug. He was warm, surprisingly warm in the freezing cold of December. Peter willed his arms to move, to hug the older man back, but they just stayed at his side, frozen against the warmth of Wade’s body.

“I wanna help, Spidey. Let me help.” Wade’s voice vibrated against Peter’s ear, leather against spandex. It made his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

How on earth could Deadpool ever help? How could anyone fix the mess that Peter was? He didn’t _ deserve _ his help. 

He pulled back from the hug and wrapped his own arms around himself, ignoring the scream of pain that his arm made as he moved it. Deadpool couldn’t help. Peter felt the panic building in his stomach once again, he should never have told the truth.

“Thanks Wade, but it’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. “Just having a bad day.” Day, year, life.

How strange it was that as easy as Peter had found telling the truth just moments ago, lying was still _ so much easier _.

“I know, he’s full of shit.” Wade muttered, obviously not speaking to Peter. Pete answered anyway.

“I’m not lying, I’m fine, see you around, Wade. Sorry you had to see... me.”

Peter swung from the rooftop before Wade could answer.

** _Get home, Pete._ **

** _Just GET HOME. _ **

** _Don’t panic._ **

** _Everything’s okay, Pete, you’re okay. _ **

** _Wade won’t say anything. _ **

** _It’s fine. _ **

** _You can go home. _ **

** _Stitch yourself up. _ **

** _You’ll be fine Peter. _ **

** _Just get home. _ **

** _You’ll feel better once you’re home. _ **

** _You’re safe when you’re alone._ **

** _You’ll be okay._ **

** _BREATHE._ **


	2. Hulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade understands. Wade wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Talk about suicide and self harm.
> 
> [YELLOW BOX]  
{WHITE BOX}
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Wednesday 25th!

Wade knew what wanting to hurt yourself felt like. He understood completely how it felt to be so alone and so overwhelmed that _pain_ is the only thing that helps.

Wade understood it, but he never thought he’d recognise it in Spider-Man.

It had been a week and a half since he’d seen Spidey on the rooftop and he still couldn’t get it out of his head. Spidey, lay on his back on the concrete, surrounded by blood. That fucking cut on his arm. Wade didn’t realise it was self harm until he saw how Spidey reacted to his presence. He was ashamed, nervous. It made Wade’s heart hurt. 

Spider-Man was Wade’s kryptonite. Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious that the hero was completely oblivious to Wade’s feelings for him. 

They’d known each other for going on 5 years, Spidey was the only person that stood up for him, that didn’t judge him on his shortcomings, that genuinely seemed to like him and be happy about his company. Was that all a lie? Spidey had always been the life of the party, he’d always been able to keep up with Wade’s banter and had always seemed so… happy. But would a happy person cut their arm to shreds?

Knowing that the hero wasn’t the sunshine man Wade thought he was should have deterred his feelings, but instead it just made him want to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.

[When did you get so fucking soft?! 

If the dude wants pain, let's goddamn show him pain.]

“I don’t think he wants pain, I think he’s in pain and doesn’t know how to deal with it.” Wade spoke aloud. He was laid across a bench in Central Park, desperately trying to ignore the stares that came from passersby. Fucking nosy bastards

{The poor baby needs help, you should help him.}

“I want to.”

[Oooh, I know how! Unalive the fucker, put him out of his misery! Everybody wins!]

The sarcastic laugh of Yellow filled Wade’s mind and he shook his head wildly in an attempt to silence his brain again. White was right though, he should help, but he knew that Spidey would never take his help willingly, he’d shown Wade that on the roof. 

The two of them had had hundreds of conversations, but it was only now that Wade was realising how little he actually knew about the webslinger’s personal life. He always seemed just so… in the moment. Easygoing. Just the coolest guy that Deadpool could imagine, really. 

They spoke about movies and science and books, but never about the stuff that actually mattered. Hell, it’d been five years and ‘Pool didn’t even know how _ old _the guy was. How long had he been in such pain while Wade had been talking about his fucking favourite food? Jesus Christ.

The more the merc thought about it, the more times he could remember Spidey acting _ off _. Bitchy comments, no small talk, unexplained injuries. But most of all there was one memory playing on the Wade’s mind. It must have around two years ago.

It was Times Square, one of the few times that Wade was actually asked to join the Avengers on a mission, he had jumped at the opportunity, _ obviously _, and the threat was neutralised fairly quickly. 

Seeing the Hulk in real life had been on Wade’s bucket list for years and his imagination had paled in comparison to the reality of seeing him in the flesh. It was the coolest thing ever! ...Until it all went wrong. 

It was an off-hand comment, nothing more. Wade was the Merc with the mouth, he spoke before he thought 80% of the time. Yellow had made a crude comment about the Hulk, Deadpool had replied with an equally dirty comment. Out loud. It set the Hulk off on a rampage. Cars, shop windows, food trucks, anything in his way as he ran down the street was smashed to smithereens.

So why was Spidey stood in his path of destruction? Why didn’t he move? He could have dodged the green guy with absolute ease, he could have swung away, he could have run. So, why did he let the Hulk throw him across the street? 

Wade had run to him straight away, found him in a heap half way down the next block, blood seeping through his mask from where he’d hit his head on the ground. Wade tried to help him, tried to get him to go to the hospital, to Avengers tower, to a fucking veterinarian for all he cared, but Spidey had refused. He’d made his own excuses and swung away before Wade could stop him.

{You know he did that on purpose, right? Poor baby.}

Wade sat upright on the bench.

[Maybe he _was_ trying to kill himself. You of all people should know about that.]

“I don’t know, maybe he was. Maybe he was and we all missed it. He’s been hurting all this time and all of us missed it. God, what a shitty bunch of friends he has.”

[You’re the worst of them. You should have seen the signs.]

“I know.” 

And he did know, Wade knew the signs, he’d been through similar things himself, but Wade had a support system now, he had Blind Al and Domino and Weasel, he had friends. Did Spidey have friends that could help him? Wade knew painfully little about Spidey’s real life, the only people he knew that the webslinger had contact with, other than himself, was the Avengers.

{Ooh! Ooh! Let’s go see Captain America again! Maybe we can look at his ass again!}

“Maybe we can, White, maybe we can.” Deadpool whispered before making his way to Avengers tower.

\----------------------------------------------

“What do you mean ‘do I know Spider-Man?’ Of course I fucking know Spider-Man. What are you getting at, Wade?” It was no secret that Tony wasn’t Wade’s biggest fan, he’d only begrudgingly let the merc into the living quarters of the tower because he kept threatening to get naked in the foyer.

“I know you know him, but do you _ know _him? Like, his secret identity?” Wade pushed, sitting down on a nearby sofa. Tony didn’t sit, instead he stood halfway across the room, his arms crossed and his eyes squinted with suspicion. 

“Why?” Tony questioned.

“I’m worried about him…” Wade let his sentence trail off, suddenly worried that he may be overstepping a line that could do more harm than help.

“Why?” The older man repeated.

{Tell him, Wade. He could help.}

[Or Spidey could never trust you again.]

{But it might help in the long run anyway, Wade tell him!}

[Yeah, Wade, tell him. Fuck up any friendship you had with that fucking aracnid. Fuck up any chance you had at fucking him. That’ll be funny.]

{Tell him!}

[Hahahaha he’s going to fucking hate you. Tell him Wade!]

“Shut up!” Wade yelled causing Tony to stare at him in anger, his face only settled when Wade spoke again.. “Not you… Sorry, my brain, y’know.” 

If the mercenary wasn’t mistaken, Tony’s eyes softened a little bit at the apology.

“Deadpool, just tell me what’s going on.” He eventually walked over and sat on the sofa opposite, his eyes were pleading now. Wade sighed.

“I bumped into him a few days ago in Manhattan. He’d been… Well, he’d cut himself.” It was more difficult than he thought it’d be to tell Spidey’s secret, he felt like a horrible friend.

[You _ are _a horrible friend.]

“Cut himself? What do you mean? Like in a fight? He has a healing factor, right? He’ll be fine, ‘Pool.”

[We can cut him. Cut him until he can’t bleed anymore.]

“No. Not in a fight.” Deadpool closed his eyes and shook Yellow’s comments from his head. “He was just lay there on the rooftop surrounded by his own blood… Stark, he’d done it to himself. He’d cut himself. And judging by the depth of it, it wasn’t the first time he’d done it.”

Tony Stark’s face was a picture, and if the situation had been any less desolate Wade would have pulled his phone out and taken a photo. 

{You should take pictures anyway, the photo might make Spidey laugh!}

“He made me promise.” Tony eventually murmured.

{Wonder if Spidey eyes are as pretty as his personality.}

“Made you promise what?”

“He made me promise not to look for his secret identity. Years and years ago, when he first came onto the scene. He told me he’d continue to work with us pro bono when we needed him, as long as I didn’t look for who he really was. He always seems so happy.” Tony seemed forlorn, Wade didn’t realise how much he actually cared for Spidey, it put him at ease a little that he wasn’t in this alone. 

“I’ve known him for 9 years, ‘Pool.” The older man continued. “I might not know much about his personal life, but I still feel like I _ know _ him. I can’t believe I missed it.” Tony had his head in his hands at this point, tugging slightly at the greying strands at the nape of his neck.

“You’re not the only one that missed it, Tony. We all did. We need to help, I just don’t know how. I’ve looked for him all week, but I have no idea where to find him, every other time I’ve patrolled with him he’d just kind of… appeared.” Wade sighed. “That’s why I’m here.” 

Tony looked up, a question in his eyes. 

“I need _you_ to be the one to help him, Tony. He can’t know that I told you, it would ruin any trust between us. I just need you to do something.” Wade’s breath caught in his throat and he was surprised to feel tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Tony must have sensed it, his hand twitched slightly as if he was fighting off the want to comfort Wade. It was sweet, really. Tony cared about Spidey just as much as Wade and it really showed. 

Tony and Wade had never really got along. Tony was always too stressed, Wade was always too sarcastic. It wasn’t a good mix, but this conversation was different. It was actually nice to have something to bond over, their love for Spidey. IronDad-in law had a nice ring to it.

“I’ll help him.” Tony stood. “I’ll think of something. Leave it to me.”

Wade managed to repress the intense urge he suddenly had to hug the older man and made his way towards the door.

“Thank you. And Stark, when you find out his identity, don’t tell me. If he wants to trust me with it, he can, but until then I don’t wanna know. It’s not right.” Wade spoke over his shoulder.

“You know, for a guy that kills people regularly, you have an awful strong morals.”

“It’s Spidey’s influence.” Wade muttered as he got into the elevator. This better fucking work.


	3. Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJJ is a tool, Peter has plans, Tony is a great liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something about this chapter that I hate with all my might, but eh, I hope u enjoy regardless!  
As always, TRIGGER WARNING! Self harm, suicidal thoughts etc.  
The next chapter will be up within a week!

“Parker! What did I say about these angles?” 

J. Jonah Jameson’s voice had a way of making Peter’s bones vibrate with sheer anger. His boss was the single worst person that he knew. Not only did he belittle his alternate identity every second of the day, he also treat Peter like shit for even being slightly affiliated with Spider-Man.

“You said you were tired of the low angles. You said it made it seem like Spider-Man was bigger than he is. That’s why I gave you a variety of different angles this time, Sir. See?” Pete pointed at the different photos he’d taken, one from an extreme bird’s eye view, another from behind, one from over the shoulder, one more from directly in front. He’d done it on purpose, taken photos from every conceivable angle specifically so he didn’t have to have this conversation… But of course, Jameson was Jameson, and Jameson was an  **asshole** .

“It’s not what I asked for Parker! You’re fired! Betty?! Come in here and remove Parker! WHERE IS MY COFFEE?” It had been the fifth time Peter had been ‘fired’ that month, but Jameson’s voice still had a way of making him cringe..

Betty placed her hand on the small of Peter’s back and escorted him from his bosses office and into the press room.

“Sorry about that, Pete. Give him an hour and go in again.” She winked as she closed Jameson’s office door behind them.

Pete smiled at Betty, she was sweet and had obviously taken a liking to Peter, one that Peter had yet to set straight with the information that he was in fact not. Straight that is. Regardless, he shakily smiled back at her and sat back at his desk.

What could Pete do for an hour that would keep him distracted? His legs jumped restlessly as he tried to occupy his mind with something, _anything_. Spare time was an evil that he avoided at all costs.

An email in his junk folder eventually caught Peter’s attention. 

The email had been forwarded to most of the office, one of the sports editors had shared it and dozens of people had since replied. The original email had a link to an article from the NYtimes website. The title read ‘U.S Suicide Rates Surges to an All Time High Among LGBTQ+ People Aged 15-30.’

That wasn’t what caught his attention though. What caught Peter’s attention was the message below the link. 

_ Fucking pussies the lot of them. Need to man up!! _

Jesus fucking Christ. Anger coiled low in his belly. He subconsciously ran his fingers along a fresh line of stitches across his upper arm as he read.

As Peter scrolled through the replies a lump began to settle in his throat. Why was no one fighting back? Why were people laughing? Why was no one as goddamn  **angry ** as he was?! It was disgusting! He knew the people he worked with were awful, but  _ this _ ? This was a whole new level of repulsive. 

Unable to stop himself, Peter continued to read.

_ This is why nobody likes the LGBTABCDEFG! They’re all snowflakes! Too easily triggered! Let them die if they don’t want to be real men! You’re right Keith, absolute pussies! _

Jameson’s response to the email made Peter’s stomach drop. He should have guessed. Should have known that he couldn’t have a single good thing in his life. Not only was his boss a dick to him, he was also a massive homophobe. Great. 

Pete barely had time to think before he pushed himself up from his desk, strode to JJJ’s office and stood in front of the man, his chest heaved with anger which he found scarcely hard to contain. The words spilled right out of him. 

“How dare you?” Peter’s voice was cold and venomous. He’d had enough, staying calm was too much effort. 

“How dare I?! How dare YOU barge into my office like this?! Betty, get in here!” Betty sulked in silently and placed her hand on Peter’s back again. He spun around to look at her and shook his head slowly. 

“Don’t touch me.” Betty backed off immediately. Turning back to his boss, Peter continued. “How dare you sit in that seat and call yourself the ‘editor in chief’ of a newspaper when you lack basic human empathy. You’re disgusting, Jonah. You’re a homophobic, misogynistic,  _ hateful  _ little man and I am  **done with you** .”

Jonah tried to interrupt. Peter didn’t let him.

“I’m done with you firing me over nothing. I’m done with you yelling at me. I’m done with your fucking ignorance and entitlement. I’m done with feeling like a piece of shit every time I come to work. I fucking quit. Good luck finding someone else who can take half as good a picture of Spider-Man as me.” 

He was out of the office and back at his desk before he knew it, moving entirely on autopilot. Luckily he’d never really made his desk very homely so he just grabbed his camera and his bag and stood to leave. 

“Send me my paycheck in the mail. You’ve got my address.” He shouted back to Betty as he pressed the button for the elevator. She nodded, a smile played at the corner of her lips and she seemed almost… proud. Pete saluted and exited the Daily Bugle for the last time.

\------------

As Peter walked through the streets of New York City he couldn’t help but feel utterly  _ alone _ . He knew he’d made the right decision by quitting, but he wished he’d taken a few moments to think about the consequences of leaving so suddenly.

Peter Parker had no job, no prospects. He was  _ sure  _ he’d never be hired anywhere again. No matter how low brow the Bugle really was, it had huge pull in the surrounding journalism circles. 

In short, Peter was well and truly  ** _fucked_ ** .

When Peter was a child, Aunt May taught him a way of communicating whether or not they were sad simply by giving each other a number, 1 was perfectly happy and 10 was devastatingly sad. Whenever things would get too much for May, whether it was small as Peter not tidying his room or as large as missing Ben, she would always let Peter know how she was by saying what number she was, 1-10. She encouraged him to do the same.

Pete lived most of his day to day life at an 8. 

After she'd died Peter had almost forgotten about May’s sadness scale. ...Until he was stood on the subway and a man called him a faggot. 

There was only so much Peter’s mind could take. 

Pete barely remembered getting on the subway, his body was on autopilot and he was heading home, but he knew he’d done nothing to deserve being called the slur. 

“Excuse me?” Peter asked in quiet shock. He’d been called it before, but never in such a random act of abuse.

“Stop fucking touching me.” 

The subway car was full. Peter’s bag was slightly touching the man’s leg. That was it. 

“Sir, it’s just my bag, I can’t move any further away.” He tried to keep his voice steady, he didn’t want to rile the man up even further.

“Just stay away from me, fucking fag.”

The second time he heard the insult something just clicked in Peter’s brain. 

Ding ding ding ding. 

He was at a 10. 

He was done with life. 

This was it.

He was ready to fucking **die**. 

Pete’s brain was completely full and he could see no way to relieve it. His nails bit into his palms sharply as he tried his fucking hardest not to hit the man. Staying calm was difficult and his anger only dissolved when he felt the drip of blood from his hands.

Instead of retaliating to the homophobia, Peter got off the subway at the next stop and walked the rest of the way to his apartment. 

Peter legitimately had nothing left to lose. No job, no family, no friends. All he had was Spider-Man, and that was a problem that was easy to fix. He could leave a message to Daredevil and ask him to keep an eye on Queens for him. Nobody would really care if he was gone anyhow. He was sure of it. He barely helped as it was. 

But how would he do it?

Pills? He would metabolise them too quickly, if anything he’d just end up with kidney failure and the whole process would be painful and drawn out. 

Hanging? He had a terrible feeling that his spidey sense would go off, making him stressed and anxious. Pete didn’t want to die like that, he wanted it to be peaceful and easy, like slipping into a warm bath. 

A warm bath. Hmm. That wouldn’t be a bad idea really. A quick cut, hot water, maybe play some music. It could be beautiful. And he needed no preparation, the bath tub in his small flat wasn’t too deep, but it was long enough that Pete could comfortably fit in. 

Was this really it? Peter was actually kind of angry. A little perturbed that, after all the shit he’d been through, it only took one homophobe on the subway to tip him over the edge. Pete found it hard to compartmentalize his issues, everything just built and built and built and he had finally found what his boiling point was.

But part of him knew that he didn’t  _ really _ want to die. 

He just wanted everything to stop, he wanted to go back in time to before his parents died and warn them not to get on that fucking plane. He wanted Gwen to still be alive. He wanted his Aunt and Uncle by his side. He wanted friends again. Really, he just wanted to be  _ happy _ . 

Peter’s head was swimming by the time he unlocked his apartment door, so full of the image of his family's gravestones and swirling red bath water that he didn’t even notice his spidey sense tingling until it was too late.

“Mr. Parker, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

Peter didn’t have to look toward the source of the sound to know it was Tony Stark’s voice. He’d fought alongside him enough times to know his sarcastic timbre off by heart. As Peter turned he allowed himself a few seconds of quiet shock to try and process the scene in front of him. 

Tony Stark was sat at his kitchen table drinking a beer from the fridge. The only thing that went through Peter’s mind at that second was how he’d found that table in an alley behind a Chick-fil-A and now Iron Man was sat at it. What a glow up.

“What the fuck…?” Peter shook his head as if trying to rid it of a hallucination. Unfortunately for Pete, the man in front of him was very much real.

“Is that how you greet all your guests, Mr. Parker?” Stark seemed amused by his reaction, a smirk played on his lips and he raised an eyebrow slightly. 

“Only the ones who break into my apartment while I’m at work.” Pete could help but be pissed off. He wanted to be left alone, he had things to _do_ and this was fucking up his plans. Tony openly chuckled at Peter’s response and for some reason it really irked him. 

“Speaking of breaking into my apartment, can I help you Mr. Stark?” Peter continued. “Shouldn’t you be off… superheroing or something?” Pete shouldn’t help his voice being slightly sharp, too much had happened today, his brain could only handle so much fucking  _ mess _ .

The next words out of Tony Stark’s mouth broke through Peter’s cloudy brain with force.

“Kid, I know you’re Spider-Man.” 

The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion. One moment he was planning his own suicide and the next he was trying to figure out whether to lie about his secret identity to the man he’d admired since he was a teenager. No matter how angry he was, Pete had enough dignity to admit how cool he thought the older man was. When he was just a kid he’d told his Uncle Ben that when he was older he wanted to  _ be  _ Tony Stark, and now here he was, in his tiny apartment, calling him kid and drinking his beer.

“I-I’m not Spider-Man, I don't even know who that is. Who’s tha-” Peter cut himself off before he could even finish the sentence and put his head in his hands. He could hear how utterly pathetic he sounded, lying had always come so easily to him, but the fucking day he’d had had drained _everything_ from him. He couldn’t be bothered anymore. He sighed loudly. They both knew the truth.

“How’d you find out?” Pete muttered, Tony smiled again at the confirmation.

“Yeah, that’s something I actually wanted to apologise about.” Tony sounded uncharacteristically sincere. The younger man had only ever heard him angry or stressed or sarcastic, he wasn’t used to apologetic. He looked up at Stark with a silent ‘what are you sorry about?’ written in his features.

“Years ago I told you that I’d never look for your identity, so I’m sorry that I now know. But in all honesty, it was an accident.” Tony walked to the fridge, pulled out another two beers and handed one to Peter, gesturing for him to sit at the table opposite. Pete stayed quiet, urging the older man to continue with his explanation.

“I saw your shots in the Bugle. Originally I just wanted a photographer to take some photos of the team and I. I figured if Spidey trusted you then I could too. Your boss gave Happy your home address. I was about to come up to your apartment when I saw you climb out your window in the suit. I tailed you for a couple of days to make sure I was right. Looks like I am! You should really be more careful.” 

Of course, Tony was lying. It had taken Friday 25 minutes to find Spider-Man’s identity after a Stark Industries drone had caught him climbing in through his apartment window with his suit on at 4:35am the previous morning. Peter didn’t need to know that, though. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. 

“Fucking Jonah…” Peter muttered under his breath. “So, do you still need a photographer? Or did you just come here to gloat about figuring out who I am?” Pete was still a little bitter but Tony seemed completely unphased by the younger man’s chilly attitude. He leaned back into his chair and tilted the rim of his beer in the webslinger’s direction.

“Ah, see this is where it gets fun. I researched you. You’re a graduate, top marks. I read your thesis. I’d like you to come work for me.”

Peter didn’t respond. Work for Tony Stark? In what capacity? He couldn’t be an Avenger, he couldn’t take that pressure.

“Assuming you’re okay with quitting your job at the Bugle?” Tony continued when Pete didn’t answer. “Happy said your boss was an asshat.”

Peter scoffed a little. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the offer, but he was just so goddamn tired. Could he hold out? Could he wait longer? Could he put a pin in his plans for just a few more days?

He’d wanted to work for Tony Stark since he was a kid. He was the reason he’d studied biochemical engineering at college.

But that was before everything, before Aunt May died and took the rest of his dreams with her. Peter didn’t want to be an Avenger, he didn’t want the team to know who he was, he didn’t want to have to be the happy go lucky Spider-man in his day job too. 

“I quit my job at the Bugle this afternoon. But… About my secret identity… By ‘working for you’ do you mean you want Spider-Man to work for you or Peter Parker?” Pete ran a hand through his curls.

“You’re the same person, kid.”

Pete made an exasperated sound and Tony sighed.

“I want a new lab assistant, I want Peter Parker to work for me. Although, I would like to help you make a new suit while you’re there too. Can’t have you swinging around in flimsy spandex under my watch.”

Peter had nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

The thought filled the back of his mind as he glanced towards his bathroom that he had planned to die in that night. Pete was at a 10, maybe he could give the job a one week trial and then after that, if he was still at a 10, then his bathtub was right there. It was strange how much having a backup plan of suicide completely took away any anxiety he had.

Nothing mattered anymore. If anything went wrong, eh, he could just kill himself.

“Alright, Mr. Stark. I’m in.”


	4. Bathtub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter remembers his suicide attempt and meets the Hulk's alter ego for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sup fellas, sorry for the slight delay in posting, work has been hell!  
Pls enjoy, the next chapter should be up fairly soon and it's been my fave to write so far!  
Also this fics Bruce Banner is inspired by that video of Mark Ruffalo on the red carpet whispering 'Is that Paul Rudd????'
> 
> As always, TRIGGER WARNING - V intense suicidal feelings in this chapter lads, pls stay safe.

Peter was 22 the first time he tried to kill himself. 

It had been seven years to the day that his Uncle Ben had been murdered and two months and 3 days since his Aunt May had died. Pete’s life was spiralling around him.

At 12:36pm Peter was awoken by the sound of his police scanner. Something was going down in Times Square, the Avengers, Deadpool, Daredevil and Jessica Jones were all en route and the NYPD were questioning the whereabouts of Spider-Man. 

He’d barely slept and could feel the pull of his mattress, but it had been two months and four days since he had left the house for more than work or groceries and the extra time he had was starting to get a little too much for him to handle. He could still see May’s dying face every time he closed his eyes and everything was still just  _ too much _ . He pulled his pillow over his head to try and drown out the sounds of the scanner. It didn’t work.

“Spider-Man, if you’re listening, come to Times Square, we could really use your help.” 

Peter didn’t expect to hear Captain America’s voice on his police scanner, he must have got hold of a cop’s radio.Now he  _ had  _ to go. 

Peter groaned as he rolled himself away from the warmth of his bed, his body was sluggish and he couldn’t get his limbs to move as fast as he used to. It was like all his muscles were weighed down by the grief of losing yet another person that he loved and now his legs were struggling to work as normal. 

He had nobody left and his heart was heavy with the effort of trying to keep himself together. 

Even putting his suit on was a chore, swinging from his window had been even harder, but eventually he made it to Times Square just in time to  _ literally  _ bump into the Black Widow as she tried to throw herself at one of the strange metal robots that covered the square. 

“Spidey, good to see you.” She yelled as she punched the robot so hard that his head toppled off his shoulders. Pete tried to say something in reply but his throat was completely dry, he hadn’t spoken in three days without even realising it.

“You too, Widow. Am I late?” Peter replied once he’d cleared his throat a little, his voice sounded hoarse with disuse. He webbed a passing robot to the floor as he waited for her response.

“Right on time. You okay? You’ve not been around lately... and you seem different.” 

Trust the former russian spy to notice that he’d be AWOL recently.

“Different how?” He needed to learn how to hide it better. Widow killed another robot without looking and flicked her hair out of her eyes.

“Your voice is deeper. You took longer to respond to the threat than normal. Your posture is more slouched than it usually is. You’ve lost weight and you’re fighting like you’ve got dumbbells tied to your ankles.” Nat spouted off differences without even slowing her fight. 

Pete cleared his throat again.

“I’m good, Widow, just tired. Getting over a cold, y’know?” Fuck, he needed to learn to lie better.

One more robot was webbed to a nearby building and the threat was soon completely neutralised. No more weird alien robots in New York. Spider-Man had been barely needed.

“Spidey!” Peter tensed slightly at the sound of Deadpool’s voice. Deadpool had always been good to him, had always been a friendly face in a sea of seriousness, but he couldn’t deal with him while he felt so shockingly bad. It was too late though, the merc had already bounced up to him and was brushing the dust from the shoulder of his suit. 

“Hey Wade, fancy seeing you here.” It was a monumental effort on Peter’s behalf to keep his voice chipper. 

“I KNOW!” The mercenary yelled back excitedly. “And I was actually invited! Like Captain America actually called me and invited me to join them in the fight! I’m finally in with the cool crowd Spidey!” Peter didn’t have to respond, Wade carried on talking anyway..

“And the Hulk is here! He’s the only Avenger I’ve never met! Look how fucking dope he is!” Wade waved at the Hulk who stood nearby. The Hulk didn’t wave back but instead narrowed his eyes at Deadpool instead. A warning.

There was a beat of silence.

“Nah to be fair, I reckon he’s still a virgin. It’s a shame, bet that Hulk dick is huge.” It was obvious that Wade was talking to somebody in his own brain, but that didn’t mean that the Hulk didn’t hear him. 

Peter felt the Hulk’s response before he saw it. His spidey sense rang strong at the back of his skull and the ground shook beneath them as Bruce Banner’s alter ego punched the ground, cracking the concrete completely 

Everyone around him braced themselves for the inevitable destruction. Widow had made her way over to the Hulk and was whispering something that Peter couldn’t quite hear, his mind was preoccupied by the echo of the crunching concrete. Realistically Peter knew that the noise was no longer happening, but it filled his brain so completely that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. 

Concrete. 

Wade. Hulk. 

_Aunt May._

He was at a 10/10 without even trying. It was like the elastic that had been keeping his sanity together had snapped. Everything that made Peter _Peter_ had disappeared and he felt like an empty shell of the man he had been before.

The rest of the Avengers and surrounding support had scampered, trying to herd the Hulk away from the nearby buildings and civilians but Peter just… didn’t ** _._ **

His spidey sense was screaming at him to  ** _MOVE_ ** .

But he just didn’t… 

He could see a large green mass coming at him and his feet just  _ wouldn’t work. _

_ Maybe this could be it? _

_ Everything would be over. _

_ Your brain would finally be quiet. _

_ You could see May again. _

_ Ben… _

_ Gwen… _

_ Mom and dad… _

** _Don’t move._ ** _ _

And so he didn’t. He stood still and let the Hulk crash into him. He shot no webs as he was flung out of Times Square and into one of the connected streets a couple of blocks away. 

He couldn’t remember hitting the floor but he came to pretty quickly with a severe headache and Wade’s voice in his ear. 

“Spidey!! Holy shit! Are you okay? Why didn’t you move?! Let me take you to a hospital!” Wade’s voice was frantic, he was obviously worried but Peter couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He was annoyed that his fucking body was so resilient, he  _ hated _ it. He wanted it  _ gone _ .

But when would he ever be able to build up the courage to try that again? Fuck! He’d fucked it.

Peter could hear Wade still speaking but his brain wouldn’t organise the sounds into words. He didn’t understand what Deadpool was saying, he just knew that his tone was frantic and it gave Pete anxiety. He had to get out of there. 

He had to be  _ anywhere  _ else but there.

And so he swung away, leaving Wade sat on the floor where his body had just hit the sidewalk. 

\-------------------

Peter Parker was 24 and had been working for Tony Stark for one week when he met the Hulk’s alter ego for the first time. 

“You must be Tony’s new lab assistant.” Came a voice behind him, it made him jump a little and Pete’s face was flushed pink with embarrassment by the time he turned to shake hands with Dr. Banner. 

“Tony’s new… Oh! Yes, I am! My name is Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. I’m a huge fan of your work Dr. Banner.” 

He’d admired Bruce Banner for years. Banner’s work with radiation and his involvement with the ‘super soldier serum that went wrong’ had made for titillating reading while he was at college. The guy was a genius, really, and Pete was excited to meet him.

The feeling was strange. Excitement… It had been so long since he felt anything near to it that when presented with such an emotion it made Peter stuttery and awkward. 

Bruce didn’t mind. In fact, he found it somewhat charming.

Tony Stark had warned Banner that he had hired a new lab assistant but had given him no information other than that he was trustworthy and had a brilliant mind. And seemingly, he was right. Bruce glanced upon the files that Peter had open on a large projection screen and found himself enthralled by what he saw.

Peter was working with a material that seemed to go against the laws of physics. It was both bulletproof yet breathable and somehow had an elasticity to it that Bruce hadn’t seen before. 

“Please, call me Bruce. What you working on, Mr. Parker?” Bruce asked, he couldn’t help but interrupt the younger man’s stuttering, he was sure he’d seen something like the material before but he couldn’t put his finger on what it reminded him of.

“Oh nothing! Just something for Mr. Stark!” Pete lied.

It had been a whole week of working for Mr Stark and Peter was seriously surprised to find his disdain for life lessening slightly, he’d forgotten what it was like to be challenged intellectually. His old job had physically given very little spare time, but this job had been taking over his brain too. Even when Peter sat at home, alone, he found himself thinking back to his day and how he could improve his project the next day. The whole situation just felt  _ bizarre _ .

Stark had set Pete the challenge to recreate his spidey suit in the professional lab using all items he could find within it.The lab itself was the biggest one Peter had ever had the opportunity to work in and through the cloudiness of his brain he’d found himself excited to find out what he could create with such high end resources.

There it was again,  _ excitement _ , that weird feeling that Pete hadn’t felt in years. 

“Am I allowed to ask what you’re working on for Tony? This compound… it reminds me of something.” 

Bruce Banner was a very smart man and Peter knew that, it was only a matter of time if he continued looking at his research that Dr Banner would figure out who he was. He quickly closed down the file he was using and clicked another one at random. 

“You know Mr Stark, he’s a stickler for privacy ha ha.” The lie sounded lame even to him but Bruce wasn’t paying attention. It took a couple of moments before Pete followed his gaze back to the screen. 

Fuck.

Of course the file he’d opened had been the recipe for his web fluid. Brilliant. 

Peter sighed loudly and buried his head in his hands. This seemed to be becoming routine. First Tony, now Bruce.

“Mr. Parker, are you Spider-man?” 

He really needed to get better at lying about his secret identity because he honestly had no idea how to get out of this one. 

“...Maybe?” Definitely  _ not  _ the response he should have given. 

He wasn’t sure how he expected Bruce Banner to react, maybe shock at how inexperienced he seemed? Disappointment? Annoyance? 

He certainly hadn’t expected Bruce Banner to get excited and shake his hand again.

“Holy crap! It’s so good to meet you, finally! I’ve been trying to get Tony to introduce us for years!” 

What the fuck? 

Peter shook his hand firmly in return. 

“Really? He never said anything!” Peter was giddy with Bruce’s reaction, he’d really expected anything  _ but _ happiness. His brain was a mess of confusion and surprise. Peter wasn’t worth a reaction  _ this good. _

He never believed he’d be able to stand there and have an actual conversation with Bruce Banner and not feel anxious, how was this happening?!

“Tony’s like that, likes to keep secrets.” Bruce looked wistful before glancing at his watch. “Oh, I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta be downtown in 15 minutes. But let’s grab coffee sometime, yeah? I wanna know how you came up with the design for your suit, and the webs! And how do your feet stick to the wall?”

Peter started to answer before he realised that Bruce only had 15 minutes to get to where he needed to be. He smiled.

“Coffee sounds good.”

Bruce grinned back and turned to go but just as he reached the door he hesitated a little. 

“Oh, before I leave…” He hesitated again. “I… Well, I wanted to apologise for the incident a couple of years ago… when he… when I nearly… when you got hurt because of me. Tony assured me it wasn’t a big deal, but I’ve felt bad ever since. So, Spider-Man, Peter, I’m sorry.” 

Peter was stunned at Bruce’s sincerity. In all honesty he never believed that what happened would have any impact the doctor at all. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault, Peter had done it on  _ purpose _ . Guilt pooled in his stomach and he found it hard to keep his composure. 

“No need to apologise, Bruce. It really wasn’t your fault, I was reckless. I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around himself in a defensive gesture, one that Bruce recognised all too well.

“Like you said, kid, no apologies necessary. Good to meet you, let me know when you’re free for coffee!”

Peter spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about the conversation he’d had with Bruce Banner. He’d never thought before about how the incident two years prior could have affected anybody else. Peter’s mind was constantly moving at 100 miles an hour, the volume was always turned up to 10 it made him slightly sick that despite all of that he was not able to clearly see his impact on other people.

Of course Bruce would have felt guilty if he’d died at his hands… Just like Peter felt guilty about Uncle Ben and Gwen and  _ Aunt May _ …

As Peter arrived home he pulled a beer from his fridge and sat at the kitchen table. Out of the corner of his eye he could see it… The bathtub. The bathtub that he envisioned ending his own life in.

One week. He’d given himself one week to work at the new job and see how he felt. 

The more he thought about it, the less he felt the pull of the bathtub like he had a week ago.

A small voice whispered in the back of his mind.

_ Stay around just a little bit longer… _

Peter smiled sadly and thought of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner and agreed. He should stay around just a little bit longer.


	5. Blood Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy shite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt bad about making you guys wait for that last chapter so here's another one!  
Enjoooooy

Peter had been working for Stark industries for one month when he realised how much he loved the job. It was an unusual feeling,  _ enjoying something _ . It had been years since he’d enjoyed any aspect in his life and on that particular day it left Peter incredibly emotional. After one week of working he’d decided to carry on with life and here he was, still alive, a whole month later. He wanted to cry.

“Pass me that hard drive, Pete.” Tony yelled from across the lab. 

It was just the two of them in that day, Bruce had taken a personal day to do some pro bono work in a local hospital. Pete was always in awe of the kindness of the Avengers. 

From the outside he understood how people could think they were pretentious, or doing it for the money or fame. But the longer Peter heard Tony talk about the team and the work they were doing, he realised that they really just wanted to help people. They enjoyed it. It was refreshing. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but I just wanted to say thank you again, Tony, for the job I mean. Working for Jameson was murder. It’s nice here.” He stuttered over his words slightly as he handed the hard drive to the older man. Tony laughed at his thanks.

“I’ve been trying to employ you for years, kid, I just didn’t know who you were until recently.” He grinned slightly and popped the bubblegum he was chewing.

“About that… I know that Bruce knows who I am but… the rest of the tea-”

“Nobody knows who you are Pete, it’s our secret. Only myself, you and Bruce know anything. The rest of the team thinks you’re some prodigy lab assistant that I picked out of a bunch of kids at MIT. That’s what I’ve been telling them for a month now, it’s already stuck.” Tony smirked at the younger man. Peter laughed, the sound felt foreign coming out of his mouth. 

“You know I finished college two years ago, right? And I didn’t even go to MIT, I went to ESU.” 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I’ll introduce you to them as my genius protege later, most of them are round for a meeting tonight” The sentence was punctuated by another bubblegum pop and a grin.

Peter couldn’t believe how quickly his life had turned around, he was finally enjoying things again, laughing again, and all it had taken was quitting working for the Bugle and spending a month with Tony Stark. Now he was earning money in his dream job and being introduced to the avengers as Iron Man’s protege, how did this happen? Did he really deserve it?

As much as Peter was glad for the change, he knew his life couldn’t become so entirely different within a month without some sort of fall out. He was waiting for it. His mind felt like it was on a timer, just counting down to the unknown time when everything was going to finally catch up with him again, when he was finally going to get sick of it all and just end it. 

Peter would be lying if he said that he didn’t still think about ending his life constantly, or cutting his skin wide open. But the feeling was dampened slightly by the reality in front of him. He had a job he liked, he was talking to people again. 

Could this be real? Could he actually see himself being happy again? Here, with the Avengers?

“Web-head, what do you think about changing the colour of your suit a little? We could spice it up with a little gold? Or are you a strictly red and blue kind of guy? It’s your project though, what’s your favourite colour?” Tony was fiddling with a screen in front of him, hard drive and side project abandoned. To him, the question meant nothing, a simple curiosity. For Peter, it meant the entire world. 

Tony Stark. Iron-Man. The man who had found out that all Spider-Man was was a photographer from Queens, with no friends and no family, with nothing discernibly interesting about him at all, yet he still wanted his opinion. 

Tony  _ actually  _ cared what Peter had to say. His favourite colour. It made his throat tighten a little and after a few seconds of no reply, Tony finally turned to look at him.

“Kid? Everything okay?” He sat next to Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder. Peter hadn’t even realised he was crying until he tried to look at the older man and was met with a blur of water.

“God, how embarrassing. Sorry Mr. Stark.” He huffed a quiet laugh and wiped his eyes with a sleeve.

“Pete, you can talk to me y’know? I know I’m technically your boss, but the amount of people we’ve fought together and the amount of times you’ve saved my ass, I’d like to think we’re friends first and foremost. Anything you want to talk about, we can talk about. You don’t need to apologise for having emotions.”

Friends. The word felt completely and utterly foreign to him. But the man was trying, which meant Peter was willing to try too.

“I just- I don’t have any friends, Mr. Stark. I used to, a long time ago. But then my best friend… Well she’s not around anymore. I gave up on the whole friend thing, y’know?” Pete struggled to keep the tone as light as he could, he couldn’t believe he was actually talking to Iron Man about this. 

“I get that. It’s easier not to have something than be constantly terrified you’ll lose it.” Tony’s voice was gentle, like he was reminiscing about something he’d also been through.

“Exactly.” Pete wiped his eyes again as a couple more tears threatened to fall. “I-I just-No one knows my favourite colour. Nobody who’s alive. You asking… it just took me off guard is all.” Tony looked at Peter fondly. 

“You should try again Pete.” Tony stated when Peter’s eyes were rid of tears.

“Try what again?”

“The whole friend thing. You might find that more people care about you than you’d think.” He smiled and sat back in front of the screen he was playing with. 

“It’s red. My favourite colour is red. Blood red.”

Tony frowned when he realised the weight of Peter’s words.

\--------------------------

Being introduced to the Avengers as a civilian was a surreal experience. 

Obviously Peter had met them all before, but seeing some of America’s most well known superheroes when he was wearing a shirt that had a picture of Pennywise the clown on it was not something he’d ever had in mind. 

Sat around the room in front of him was Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Thor, War Machine, Scarlet Witch, Vision, Falcon, Winter Soldier and Antman. All eyes were on Peter as he entered the room. Tony ushered him in with a hand on his back.

“Fellow superheroes!” The older man shouted dramatically to the room. “I’d like to introduce you to my new lab assistant and genius mentee, Peter Parker!”

“Steve Rogers, good to meet you!” Cap came to greet Peter first, hand extended. Of course Peter already knew everyone’s names, but he wasn’t sure if that was information known by civillians yet, so he played dumb. Steve’s hands were warm and his smile was welcoming. 

“Good to meet you too, Cap.” Peter shook his hand and spoke as politely as he could. 

“And this is Bucky!” Cap announced as the long haired man stepped up to say hello. They didn’t shake hands but Peter found himself completely at ease with that, Bucky smiled his thanks when he realised that Peter wasn’t going to force a handshake upon him. There was a mutual respect almost instantly. 

Next came Natasha and Clint, the two Avengers, besides Tony, that Peter had spoken to most often as Spider-Man. Nat shook his hand firmly and Clint slapped his shoulder in what Peter assumed was a friendly manner.

“What’s up genius, I’m Clint, this is Nat. How’s it been working for this grumpy bastard?” Clint laughed, pointing at Tony. Tony frowned comically in response.

“Pretty nice if I’m honest, he’s a lot better than my old boss.” 

“Who was your old boss?” Natasha squinted her eyes slightly in suspicion. 

“J. Jonah. Jameson. I used to work for the Daily Bugle. I like taking photos.” Pete uttered, squirming under Nat’s intense gaze.

“Oh god, I’ve spoken with him before, he is the absolute worst, glad you got out when you did! I’m Rhodey by the way” Rhodey placed his outstretched hand in front of Pete and he shook back in earnest, Peter could already tell that he was a great guy.

“He wasn’t the best boss in the world, that’s for sure.” The younger man smiled.

“Mr. Parker, it’s nice to make your acquaintance! Any friend of Tony’s is a friend of mine.” Pete looked up to spot Thor absolutely towering over him. Peter wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but holy shit, the dude was a GOD. Literally.

“Good to meet you too, Mr. Thor, sir.” Pete cringed at how childlike he sounded, that’s when he spotted Scott Lang.

“Mr. Lang! I read your paper on Pym’s Growth Capsules. It was really interesting.” Pete felt his inner fanboy come out a little and he was embarrassed for a split second before Scott skipped up to him.

“You liked it? Oh I’m so glad you did! That’s so nice of you! Tony, you’ve got a solid mentee right here, he’s got his head screwed on right. You should have him hang round with us all the time, lets get him some wings like Sam and he can join the team!” Scott almost sang the praise and Peter could help but blush and laugh a little. 

At Sam’s name, he came and introduced himself, quickly followed by Wanda and Vision. 

The next hour followed through smoothly, Peter made the rounds, acted polite, told them all little to nothing, as usual. It was pretty easy, lying about who he really was had become second nature to him. The Avengers were such nice people that Peter realised after a while that the smile on his face wasn’t a lie at all, it was genuine. 

Time moved fairly quickly around the Avengers and Pete soon found himself late to patrol. He pulled Tony to one side to let him know that he had to go and skipped out of the room without saying goodbye. 

Peter had just made it to the elevator when he heard a ‘hey’ from behind him. Natasha. She held the elevator door open and looked him up and down, again Peter squirmed under her gaze.

“You’re Spider-Man.” It wasn't a question.

Peter couldn’t help the panicked giggle that burst out of his mouth. 

“Holy fucking shit, is it printed on my forehead?! God, I need to get a new secret identity because this shit is blown.” 

Nat smiled back at the younger man fondly. 

“No need, Spidey. Your secret is safe with me.” She placed a palm on Peter’s cheek in a way that made him feel warm and calm. It reminded him of May. 

“Be safe, kid.” Widow laughed, kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heels to walk away. Peter could not wipe the smile off his face.

Patrol was fairly quiet again but for the first time in a long time, he found that he didn’t mind it. Pete could feel his mind racing in the background, but the events of the day managed to quell it. The weirdest thing about the day was that he actually found himself hungry, it had been years since he’d eaten for the enjoyment of it. Usually he just ate when he remembered to, maybe around once a day. But here he was, swinging through Manhattan and craving  ** _cherry pie. _ **

It had been something his Aunt May used to make, he hadn’t had it in years, but at that moment, it was all he could think about. Peter Parker wanted pie. Luckily Manhattan had an abundance of places that sold pie, even in the late hour that it was.

It must have been fate that Peter spotted Deadpool straight after he’d bought a whole pie.

Peter stumbled onto the rooftop, paper bag full of food and plastic cutlery in his arms when he saw Wade sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over. The merc didn’t hear Peter land and he jumped a mile when he spoke.

“Hey ‘Pool, fancy seeing you here.” He tried his best to sound casual and not panic. The last time he’d seen Deadpool Peter had been covered in his own blood. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about that. He needed to set things straight.

“Spidey, it’s been a while since I saw that sweet ass of yours, sit with me.” Wade spoke when his heart had stopped racing from the scare. Peter complied.

“Want some pie?” He didn’t say anything about the ‘sweet ass’ comment.

Even through Wade’s mask, Peter could tell he was smiling. 

“White wants me to tell you that they love you. Yellow wants you to know that if the pie is not cherry then we’re legally allowed to shoot you in the head.”

“Well thankfully for me it IS cherry! Holy shit, Yellow needs to chill out.” Peter let out a small laugh and he could feel Deadpool stare at him in shock at the sound.

“Incredible.” Was all Wade said. Peter pulled the pie out of the bag and passed him a plastic fork. 

“I can’t be bothered to cut it up properly.” He said and sat cross legged facing Wade, the pie between them. They both pulled their masks up slightly and sat eating in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. It’s weird how easy sitting with Deadpool was, over the last five years he’d been one of the only people that Peter didn’t necessarily feel like he had to try around. Wade was always content just to talk to Pete, or to himself and his ‘boxes’ (as Deadpool called them) if he realised that Peter wasn’t listening. The only time Wade was ever truly quiet was when he was eating. He was a better person than people gave him credit for.

“I actually wanted to talk to you, Wade.” Pete spoke when he’d finished eating.

“Hmm babe? About what?” Wade’s mouth was still full, his lips and the scars surrounding his mouth were tinged slightly red from the cherries.

“About when we last saw each other. I wanted to apologise to you. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Wade was already shaking his head before Peter finished his sentence.

“You don’t have to apologise about that Spidey, really, you don’t. I get it. Like I 100% completely get it. I tried to look for you, after it happened, to tell you that it was okay, but I couldn’t find you!”

“Yeah… I went off the radar a little. I was scared you’d tell someone. You didn’t, right?”

Wade hesitated for a second and Peter’s heart plummeted to his stomach.

“You didn’t tell anyone, right?” Peter repeated, his voice panicked.

“No, no. Well, I told my pastor. But then I found kiddy stuff on his laptop so I killed him a couple days later, it’s fine Spidey, no one knows.” Wade spoke quickly, obviously trying to calm Peter before he panicked even further.

“You have a pastor?” Pete finally breathed once his panic had subsided.

“ _ Had _ , baby boy, I  _ had _ a pastor. The bastard.”

“Wade, I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anybody else. Please, it’s really important.” 

“I promise I won’t tell anybody else. I solemnly swear.”

“...That you’re up to no good.” Peter couldn’t help it. Wade’s squeal of joy made the embarrassment of quoting Harry Potter so very very worth it. 

“You’re great, did you know that Spidey? A real catch.” It made Peter’s heart flutter a little in a way that he’d not experienced since Gwen was alive. His fingered itched to reach out to Deadpool and for a few moments of internal dilemma he realised that there was literally nothing stopping him.

Peter moved the remnants of the pie from between then and leaned toward Wade, kissing him lightly on his cheek just under where his mask was rolled to and placed his arms tightly around the older man’s neck, leaning into his cross-legged frame. 

It only took a second before Wade’s arms were wrapped around Peter’s waist, rubbing small circles on his back.

“Thank you.” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear and squeezed his arms slightly before pulling away and running off the rooftop, swinging into the night.

It was the first night Peter didn’t have nightmares since Uncle Ben had died.


	6. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening my guys. This chapter is super dark so TRIGGER WARNING!  
Please read the tags and if u think this may impact you negatively, don't read it!!!! Be safe, I love you.

Peter began patrolling with Wade more than he ever had before. They fought together, they ate together, but more importantly than anything, they actually _ talked_. For the first time in a long time, Peter had an honest to God _ friend_. One that he knew he could count on and knew would not let him down. 

It was weird and Pete couldn’t quite get his head around it. Deadpool knew his favourite colour, his favourite food and his favourite movie. On their 17th time patrolling together he'd even told Wade about his parents, Ben, May and Gwen. Wade had apologised for his loss and gave him a hug. He asked questions about them and laughed when Peter told him fond stories, Wade actually seemed to _ care_. 

It was then that Peter realised something.

It was absolutely typical that the first friend Peter found himself having, he also found himself crushing on. 

Having friends wasn’t something Peter was used to, _ nevermind _having a crush. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to open up and let people into his life and for it to happen so suddenly and fully with Wade put Peter on edge a little. 

Wade made Peter feel comfortable. He realised after three weeks of patrolling together that Wade had this perfect ability to be gentle and soft with him without seeming condescending or pitying. It made his heart skip a beat every time the older man put an arm around him, or put a hand on the small of his back when he walked past, everything seemed to come so natural for him. 

Peter couldn’t believe he’d never seen Wade in this light before.

They’d known each other for years, but something about someone seeing you at your most vulnerable makes it so much easier to open up about everything else. Life was… getting better. As much as it hurt Peter’s ego to say it, working for Tony Stark had turned things around for him in more ways than one.

It had been two months since Peter had met the Avengers team as a civilian, it had been two months since Peter had shared a cherry pie with Wade, it had been two months since he started feeling like a human again.

He knew it would go wrong eventually. 

He thought he’d planned for it, but when it actually happened, it was so much worse than what he’d envisioned. 

Working for Tony Stark was almost dreamlike, the lab and the job itself was everything that Peter could have ever wished for. He finally felt like he _ belonged_. As time went on he began to see Tony as a friend too, somebody who he looked up to and admired.

“Oi, Webhead, go home already! You’ve been here since 6am,” Tony Stark scolded him for the third time that day. It was nearing 10pm and Peter was still in the lab working on an alternate design for Falcon’s wings. 

“I’ll be 5 minutes, let me just finish this.” Peter muttered under his breath before his spidey sense rang quickly and he spun round just in time to catch an elastic band ball that was aimed for his head.

“I see that spidey sense of yours is still working.” Tony laughed sheepishly. “Time to go home, kid.”

In reality, Peter didn’t want to go home. 

Although he felt better most of the time, there were still _ moments… _Peter wasn’t sure how he could describe them other than moments of obscurity. He lay in bed at night wide awake with the box in his bedside table calling to him. He knew that at the back of the drawer, inside the box, lay 6 unused scalpel blades. He would lie there, eyes wide open and see visions of the blade slicing his arm, the blood flowing, arteries and tendons exposed. It made his stomach tight with need. 

So maybe if Peter was being honest with himself, he wasn’t doing as good as he thought he was. Atleast not as good as he wished he was doing. He knew it wasn’t normal to want to cut yourself so bad that _ not _ doing it gave you physical pain, but he couldn’t help it. Cutting had become a staple in his life for so long that not doing it made him feel like a junkie. Like a smoker with no nicotine or an alcoholic going cold turkey. It made him ** _itch_**.

Being at work at least took Peter’s mind of the incessant need to hurt himself, if only for a few hours a day. Patrolling with Wade worked the same way, but Wade had told him the day before that he had a ‘meeting’ and couldn’t patrol, whatever that meant. Having nobody to patrol with meant he was running low on necessary distractions.

He threw the elastic band ball back at Tony.

“No chance I can stay for a couple more hours?”

Please say yes.

“Sorry kid, I have a late meeting, gotta lock up the lab. You can come in as early as you want tomorrow, but tonight you should go home and get a good night’s sleep!”

Peter could swear he overheard Friday calling Tony a hypocrite as he left the lab.

_ You’re okay. _

_ You’re okay. _

_ You’re okay. _

_ You can make it just a few more hours. _

He _ was _okay, at least he was getting better, but something about that day had his anxiety on high alert and it was fucking with him. All Peter had to do was get through the next few hours on his own and then he could be back in the lab being distracted all over again. He only needed to last a few more hours. Only a few more hours. He muttered the words to himself like a mantra over and over again as he walked through the winding corridors of the Avengers Tower.

“Hey Wade, is it true?”

Deadpool’s name made Peter stop in his tracks, his mantra still played on his lips silently as he pushed his ear to the door beside him. He felt no shame in eavesdropping, if Deadpool was there it was probably something that Spider-Man should know about anyway.

“Is what true, Legolas?”

“What Tony told me? About Spidey?” Peter soon recognised the voice as Clint’s. What had Tony told him?

“What about him?” Wade’s voice was clipped and Peter was suddenly back on edge. What had Tony told Clint that had Wade so obviously tense?

“You know... Apparently _ you _ told him!” Clint urged. “About the Spidey-kid cutting himself. It’s super sad, I hope he’s okay. Stark said he was trying to help, but I have no idea how, no one tells me anything nowadays.”

_ Wade had told Tony about the cutting?! _

He’d _ promised _Peter, said he wouldn’t tell a soul. And now this?! Clint knew? Tony knew? How many other fucking superheroes knew?!

“Tony told you about that? Fuck. I’m such a bad friend.” Wade cursed a couple more times under his breath. “I just asked for Tony to help Spidey, months ago now. I hate to compliment the guy, but whatever he’s been doing seems to be working, Spidey seems… Happier… More like himself. Stark should keep it up.” 

Peter was ** _ruined_**. 

He’d never truly understood the word heartbroken before, but the feeling of having his trust completely violated seemed to do the trick.

This was the last thing he needed, after so long of keeping this shit a secret, after trying _ so _hard, after ignoring the call of the blades for weeks now… There had been no point to any of it. 

Peter really thought things were getting better, despite his constant need for distraction he finally had friends and was opening up and talking. He shouldn’t have. He should never have talked.

Tony wasn’t really his friend, he felt sorry for him. He _ pitied _him. And Wade… Wade had lied to him. His friend, the person he’d started to have feelings for, it was over. Everything was finished.

Pete could feel himself spiralling. Everything that he had achieved this last three months had been completely based on _ lies _.

Fuck this. Peter had nothing to lose anymore. Literally nothing. 

**FUCK secret identities.**

He swung the door open.

“You told Tony?!” Peter yelled at the two men when their eyes fell on him, his tone was venomous. “Wade, you promised me on that rooftop. I shared my pie and you fucking promised me.”

“Peter?” Clint asked, confused.

“Spidey… is that you?” Wade had his mask pulled off and stared openly at Peter.

“Yes, it’s fucking me. Is that why I have this job now? Is that why Stark ‘figured out my identity by accident’? Is this where Tony’s whole ‘anything you wanna talk about, we can talk about’ thing came from? Because you’re trying to _ help me_? By going behind my back and doing the one thing I didn’t want you to do?”

Deadpool was uncharacterstically silent, his mouth opened and closed slightly as he tried to figure out what to say. Peter huffed an unamused laugh.

“This is all anyone will think when they see me, Wade!” Peter continued, shaking his head in frustration. “‘Poor Spider-Man, we’ve gotta treat him like a kid because his brain is fucked.’ ‘Poor Peter Parker, the dude who cuts himself because nobody loves him.’ ** _Jesus Christ_**, did you ever even _ think _ about how I would _ feel _if you told anybody? About how I feel now that the Avengers know?!”

Peter couldn’t stop shouting, everything was spilling out of him at an alarming rate, he couldn’t stop it, word vomit. His eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill and his voice became louder, panicked now.

“I have nobody else in my life, Wade! I have you and Tony and the team. You’re all I have. You’re the only people I fucking talk to! Everyone else is dead and it’s all my fault. God. How did I fuck up so bad?” 

Peter’s breath was coming in quick bursts that made him lightheaded. 

“Spider-Man is all I have, Wade, everything is ruined! Fuck. I’m going to have to leave the city. What have I done? You’re the only people I have and I’ve fucked it up _again_.” His legs buckled under him and Peter found himself on his knees with his head in his hands. Everything that he’d been feeling the last few months was spilling out of him, the more he tried to control himself the more unravelled he became.

“What do I do now? I can’t do this anymore. What do I do? How did I fuck it all up? I need to get out of here. Fuck, what do I do?” 

He wasn’t even speaking to Wade or Clint anymore, his eyes were closed and he rocked slightly on the spot.

What could he do now?

Peter had nothing left. He had nobody left.

He was done for.

Was this how things ended? Was that God’s plan for him? Fuck up his entire life so that Peter would be left with no other option _ but _ to kill himself? Fuck. 

It wasn’t even Wade’s fault, it was his own, everything was his own stupid fucking fault.

He could hear Clint speaking beside him, but it was like his brain was glitching, just like after the incident a couple of years ago, he could hear Clint talking but the words would not make sense.

And then suddenly he was at home.

One second he was in Avengers Tower and the next he was in his apartment.

He’d lost time again.

He had no idea how much time had been lost or how he’d got home, all he knew was the he was stood at the foot of his bathtub, blade in hand.

His eyes were blurry with tears as he stared into the empty tub. Surely now was the time, right? Surely his body wouldn’t fail him this time, right?

Peter had gained weight the last few weeks and his body was the strongest it had been in years, surely now he couldn’t fail. 

The anxiety he felt was dissipating the longer he understood the reality of what was about to happen. He just felt... heavy. His body felt weighed down by years of trauma and self abuse. He was done. Without even realising it he had completely accepted that his life was over. His brain was silent. 

The bath ran painfully slowly.

Pete took off his clothes, lit a candle, turned the lights off and stepped into the half full bath, the water was warm and felt soothing against Peter’s frozen skin. Usually he ran hot, but today… today was something else and goosebumps rose on his chest at the juxtaposition of temperature.

It was nice, the warmth, the sound of the water, it was calming and made Peter’s eyes droop a little with exhaustion. When the bath was filled to the brim, he turned off the faucet and turned on a playlist on his phone next to him. The sounds of These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding filled the small bathroom. Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s wedding song. 

Peter wasted no time and lifted the blade to his left wrist and sliced it quickly from wrist to elbow and placed it back into the water. 

Through his eyelashes Peter could see the water changing colour. Blood red. His favourite colour. 

Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as time passed by slowly. As much as he wanted everything to be over Peter still didn’t really want to die. He wanted his life to be better. He just wished the last few months had been _ real _.

He wished that Tony would have offered him a job sooner. He wished Tony had found out his identity under different circumstances. He wished their friendship was _ real_.

And Wade… God. He wished he hadn’t yelled at him. Peter wished he’d had the guts to be friends with the merc sooner, he wished he’d told him how he felt. He wished Deadpool was there. He wished he would save him.

He wished he was stronger.

He wished he hadn’t got in the bath.

He wished he hadn’t cut his wrist.

But there he was… dying. 

He wished for a lot of things as his life leaked out of him. Most of all, he wished for happiness. Not for himself, but for the family he’d made in the last few months. For the Avengers, for Tony, for Wade.

_ Tony Stark. _

_ The Team. _

_ Aunt May. Uncle Ben. _

_ Mom and Dad. _

_ Gwen. _

_ Wade. _

_ I’m sorry. _

Peter let out a silent prayer and drifted from the land of consciousness and into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!  
Next chapter should be up within a week or so!  
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines If anyone needs these pls don't hesitate to call them. Stay safe.


	7. Anaesthesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always Trigger Warning for self harm n suicide.   
So I uploaded this from google docs on my phone so I’m sorry if the formatting is super off!   
I also apologise about how late and short this chapter is, turns out that writing about suicide when you’re not 100% mentally healthy is a super hard thing to do lmao. My motivation hasn’t been great recently but hopefully I’ll manage to get back into it. Thank you all for your beautiful comments, pls enjoy!!

Peter awoke to the blaring noise of his phone ringing and his first thought was ‘why?

_ Why are you awake? _

_ Why are you not dead? _

_ Why have you failed again? _

His second thought was about how much pain he was in. The water surrounding him was freezing cold at this point and he couldn’t help but clamp his teeth together to stop them from chattering. This didn’t help. His head pounded with every shrill ring of his phone and the pain seemed to radiate through his entire skull.

The candle he had lit was now a melted stump on the end of the tub. Peter wasn’t sure how long he lay there, freezing cold, head pounding and unable to move. Awake. Alive. 

_ Alive _ .

Tears flowed steadily as Pete’s body filled with regret. He’d failed again. He would always fail. And what would the fallout be this time? He’d lose the family that he’d made over the last few months, he would lose everybody all over again. Peter didn't want  _ this _ . He didn’t want to live in the aftermath of another failed attempt but it was becoming painfully obvious that he couldn’t do this again. 

The way Wade had looked when Peter screamed at him filled his mind. He seemed sad, he seemed  _ sorry _ . And really, Peter didn’t blame him for telling anybody. Wade was only trying to help, Tony too. 

God, what had he done? He’d fucked everything up, he should have been grateful, why did his head have to be like this?! Why couldn’t he have just accepted the help that was so obviously working? Why couldn’t he have just been  ** _honest_ ** ? 

His phone rang again and it took all Peter’s strength to stretch his right arm out of the tub and grab it. He didn’t look at the caller ID, just pressed answer and held it shakily to his ear.

“Hello?” Peter spluttered through clamped teeth, he didn’t recognise his own voice.

“Peter? You there?” It was Tony Stark. His voice faded in and out of Peter’s consciousness and the younger man barely caught what he was trying to say.

“Wade- Closet- Yelled- Okay- Home?” It made no sense to Peter, his grip on the phone was getting looser so he quickly spoke the only words he could before it fell into the freezing water below.

“Help me.”

The water looked opaque in the dark room and Peter wished to God that he could move his body, he wanted more than anything to be in the warmth of his bed, but his body just wouldn’t cooperate, picking up the phone had used the tiniest bit of strength he had left. He just  _ couldn’t _ . 

Another part of him wanted to be able to look at his arm, he wanted to see if he was still open and bleeding or if his goddamn  _ powers  _ had healed him already. He didn’t even know how long he’d been there. The bathroom had no windows, the door was closed. Time was entirely elusive at this point. 

Peter tried his hardest to occupy his mind with something to pass the time.  _ Anything _ to take away his thoughts from his frozen body beneath the water. Eventually, a song Ben used to listen to filled his mind and he made sure to recite each lyric, it was the only thing he could think to do to stop his mind from spiralling any more than it already was.

_ My name it means nothing, my fortune is less _

_ My future is shrouded in dark wilderness _

_ Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on _

_ Everything I possessed, now they are gone _

_ They are gone _

_ They are gone _

He’d recited the song 9 times over before he heard somebody in his apartment. Peter wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or horrified when Tony Stark opened the door to the bathroom.

“Pete, are you in he-” Tony fell silent when he saw Peter’s tearstained face amongst a sea of red. He didn’t move, he couldn’t. Much like Peter, the emotions Tony was feeling had debilitated him. He’d never seen somebody look so vulnerable before, let alone Peter Parker, his friend. 

The medical team Tony had assembled pushed past him when they saw what he was looking at and quickly got to work. The older man couldn’t help but cough back a sob when Peter’s frail body was lifted from the tub. His skin was littered with scars, hundreds of them lay in stark contrast against his chalky skin. Some were raised and purple while others blended in as a silvery white. His bones protruded from his skin in a way that almost looked painful. He couldn’t believe it had gotten this bad. The only thing that made Tony look away was Peter’s voice.

“Mr Stark- Please, don’t.” Fresh tears were falling down Peter’s face as the paramedics placed him on the floor next to the tub and began working on the wound on his arm. It took everything that Tony had to tear his eyes away from the angry cut on Peter’s forearm. How had he let this happen? He was supposed to help and now…  _ this _ .

Tony moved when Peter was moved, like a planet orbiting the sun. When Peter was put on a stretcher, Tony stood by him, on autopilot, and held his hand.

When Peter was placed into an ambulance and began having a panic attack as he was strapped to the bed, Tony sat by him and stroked his hair, whispering affirmations until he seemed to calm down. 

It was all Tony could do now, he just had to be there for Peter. It was the only thing he could do after he’d failed to save the kid. 

Peter found it hard to stay conscious after the ambulance ride, paired with the amount of blood he’d lost, the emotional trauma he felt was devastating. Panic attacks filled his waking moments and it was almost a relief when he was able to understand the words ‘surgery- put him under’ from a nearby doctor.

Being put under anaesthesia was strange. Peter needed a lot more than the average adult and during the time he was out he found himself vividly dreaming. 

He had no idea how long the surgery lasted, but his dreams seemed to go on forever. There were no storylines like his regular dreams, just… stuff. People. Feelings. Memories.

The darkness of the anaesthesia was filled with feelings of guilt and sadness, but most importantly of love. 

Bruce Banner laughing over coffee. 

Flash calling him a faggot in eighth grade.

Tony Stark singing AC/DC at the top of his lungs. 

Ben on the ground.

Natasha Romanoff calling him ‘kid.’

May in the hospital.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s wedding anniversary.

Steve Rogers offering to walk him home after a long day in the lab.

Tony Stark remembering his coffee order.

Scott Lang buying him a beer.

Wade Wilson hugging him. 

Gwen Stacy kissing him.

Is this what it would be like to be dead? All your most important memories played right in front of you? 

Or is this what it was like to be _alive_? 

  
  
  



	8. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally finds out how important he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt a lil guilty but also super inspired so here’s another chapter lol  
Again, sorry if the formatting is weird and also TW as always. 
> 
> Love u x

Waking up was difficult. 

Peter’s mind swirled with the remnants of his anaesthesia fuelled dreams. He was sad, he felt guilty, he missed his family. 

The room he was in was dark and the beeping of his pulse on the machine to his right was reminiscent of his phone ringing after he’d woken up in the bath. He hated it, the noise filled him with anxiety. He tried his hardest but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how to turn the beeping off, he tossed and turned but just didn’t have the patience.

“Mr Stark?” He whispered to the room, his throat was dry and he cleared it before he tried again. At least his ability to talk had returned, even if his throat burned with every word.

“Tony?” He said, louder this time. Nothing. 

“Mr Stark?!’ Peter all but yelled. The door was open and the light was on in seconds. 

“Peter! You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Tony was by his side immediately, the back of his hand touched his clammy forehead. 

“Can you turn the beeping off please?” His voice was weak and he felt like a child, small and weak and pathetic. The beeping stopped but Peter’s sadness must have shown on his face because soon Tony was pulling him into a hug. 

Peter had no choice but to let himself be dragged into it. His dreams had made him face what he’d nearly left behind and so he returned Tony’s hug as tightly as he was able.

“I’m so sorry Pete, God, I should have told you. I should have said what we were trying to do. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Pete couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

Tony pulled back and looked him dead in the eyes. 

“We should have tried harder. I should have noticed something was up when Wade didn’t show up to our meeting, I should have looked for him sooner, I could have gotten to you before you-“ Tony cut himself off with a cough that Peter could tell was to push back the threat of tears. 

What did he mean that Wade didn’t show up to their meeting? Why didn’t he? What had Wade done after Peter had left the tower?

“Tony I- I lost time. I can’t remember- What happened to Wade? To Clint? I didn’t hurt them, did I?” 

Tony’s eyes softened immediately.

“Peter, no. You didn’t hurt anyone. I found them webbed up in a closet 3 hours after you’d left the tower and It took another 15 minutes for me to make sense out of Wade’s hysterics, but they weren’t hurt, only worried for you. You’ve been out for a couple of days, you don’t remember what happened?” 

Pete felt like he had a hand around his throat, threatening to choke him. Tears fell. He shook his head. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“I-I-” Peter cleared his throat and tried again. “I-I yelled at Wade. I shouted at him for telling you about what he saw on the rooftop. Clint was there… I remember him talking - trying to calm me down - but then- next thing I know I’m in my bathroom, I don’t know what I did in between.” Peter cringed at the memory, or lack thereof.

“Oh, kid.” Tony didn’t sound angry, like Peter had expected, he sounded sad, he sounded caring. “Do you remember your note?” 

That took Peter off guard. 

“My note?” He hadn’t written a note, had he? 

Apparently, he had. 

Tony pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, as well as a card in an envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket. 

“I don’t know if this will help or be detrimental. I just know that if it were me, I’d want to read it. Make sure you read what’s in this envelope afterwards. I’ll be right outside if you need me, I swear, I’m not going anywhere, I just figure you’ll want your privacy.” Tony stroked a hand through Peter’s curls in a caring gesture that reminded him of Ben. Another tear fell. “I’ll be right outside.” Tony repeated and left the note and card on the bed.

Peter grabbed and unfolded the paper before he could overthink it. 

** _Dear whomever this may concern,_ **

** _Is that too formal? Who knows. This is new to me. Not the whole suicide thing, but the whole ‘people knowing my secret identity’ thing. If nobody knew who I was I could have just slipped away, noteless, but I couldn’t do that to you. You deserve an explanation. _ **

** _Whenever I thought about writing this note I never thought that I would have anyone to address it to. It would simply serve as proof of suicide for the police. But now… now I have lots of people to address this to. _ **

** _So, Tony, Wade, Nat, Cap, Bruce, Clint, the rest of the team… I’m sorry. _ **

** _I know you were only trying to help. None of this is your fault. But this is just a lot. Too much, y’know? _ **

** _It’s like pieces of me keep being chipped away. I haven’t been whole for years. _ **

** _First, my parents took a piece of me with them, then Uncle Ben when I was 15. That was my fault. It took a big piece. _ **

** _Then Gwen, again, my fault. Another piece taken._ **

** _I was holding it together by a thread when May was stolen. I have no idea how I’ve survived since. _ **

** _She was everything to me, the only thing I had left. That’s why I tried to kill myself the first time, in Times Square._ **

** _Bruce, I want to apologise to you for that. I never thought about the impact that could have had on you. If I’d died by your hand I would have tainted your life and I _ ** ** _never ever_ ** ** _ wanted that. When you apologised to me in the lab I finally realised how awful that must have been for you. God, Bruce. I’m so sorry. _ **

** _I don’t know how I managed to fuck everything up so monumentally because honestly I was feeling so much better<strike>. I </strike>_ ** <strike> ** _wish I had tried harder, maybe I still shoul-_ ** </strike>

** _<strike>Maybe I don’t have to do this. Maybe I can figure something else out. I don’t really want to die, I just want everything to fucking stop, I just want my brain to fucking stop</strike>._ **

** _Tony, you have no idea how much I appreciated and _ ** ** _still _ ** ** _appreciate your job offer. It changed me. I felt different, _ ** ** _happy_ ** ** _ even. It was my dream. To work for you and work with Bruce, it has been my dream since I was a kid. I worshiped you both, holy shit. I used to have an Iron Man poster on my wall when I was a kid. Insane. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. I was so alone and I owe you so much._ **

** _I hope this doesn’t hurt you, that’s not my aim. _ **

<strike> ** _Part of me wishes I’d never met you, maybe that way this would be easier. No, fuck that, meeting you all was the best thing that’s happened to me in years._**</strike>

** _And Wade. I’m so sorry. _ ** <strike> ** _My hands are shaking as I write this. _ ** </strike> ** _You’re incredible. I never meant to blame you, I don’t actually blame you at all. I’m sorry for shouting. Tell Clint I’m sorry too. It wasn’t your fault, none of this is your fault, it’s mine I swear. I don’t want any of this weighing on your conscience. I don’t want Yellow to persuade you that any of this is on you. _ ** <strike> ** _Fuck you Yellow._ ** </strike> ** _ I’m just sorry. _ **

** _You were my first friend. You saw the worst of me and _ ** ** _still_ ** ** _ wanted to talk to me. That day with the cherry pie will be on my mind until the moment I slip away. It was the happiest I’d been in years. You’re my best friend. _ ** ** _<strike>Maybe even more than that. In all honesty, I think I could have even fallen for you.</strike> _ ** ** _I don’t blame you for telling Tony about the rooftop incident and I don’t blame Tony for telling anybody else. The whole thing was weird, it’s something to talk about, I understand. You wanted to help. It’s okay. This isn’t because of that. _ **

** _This is nobody’s fault but my own. I’m sorry. _ **

** _Tell New York that Spidey is sorry. Lie about how I died._ **

** _I love you all,_ **

** _Peter Benjamin Parker _ **

Peter found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the paper when he’d finished reading.

It was his handwriting. It was his words. Yet it didn’t _ feel _like he’d written it. He felt a strange disconnect from himself that had his mind whirring like a broken computer. He agreed with a lot of the things that he’d written, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but his own, but as he looked through the scratchy scrawl of the pen, he couldn’t help but feel like it was another dimension’s Peter who’d written the words down. 

The biggest truth of the note was something that ‘other’ Peter had crossed out.

** _Maybe I don’t have to do this. Maybe I can figure something else out. I don’t really want to die, I just want everything to fucking stop, I just want my brain to fucking stop._ **

It was so true that it made Peter’s heart hurt. He’d convinced himself for so long that things would be better off if he was dead and it physically hurt to know that he had failed again, but a large part of him just wanted the emotions he felt to just be _ over _ . He wished he was dead but he didn’t want to _ die _. Putting it into words that actually made sense was difficult. He just wanted everything to stop and death seemed like the only answer to that. 

Fuck. Peter’s brain was fried. He took the note, folded it and tore it up into small pieces. He placed the small torn squares onto the bedside table. Right now he needed to compartmentalise. If he dwelled too much on the note right now he knew it would kill him all over again.

Envelope next. Just like Tony advised him to.

He pulled the card from the blank envelope swiftly. The front had a large font that read ‘I make science puns, but only periodically’ and despite himself, Peter smiled. 

In the corner of the front cover was written ‘Bruce picked the card. Sorry.’ In Tony’s elegant script. It was an incredible juxtaposition to the words he’d just torn up.

He took a few deep breaths before he opened the card, somehow more nervous to read this than his own suicide note. Peter looked at his hands, balled them into fists and released them multiple times. His left arm ached, and his fingers were stiff. The arm was wrapped in thick gauze that a tiny voice at the back of his mind yelled at him to rip off.

He took one more glance at his arm before he opened the card. It was full. 

_ Peter, _   
_ Feel better soon bud. Let’s grab another drink and talk about stuff some time. _ _   
_Scott Lang x

_ Peter, _   
_ We’re all here if you need to talk. About anything. We’ll understand. _ _   
_Wanda and Vision xxx

_ Kid, _   
_ We need you here, please keep going. _ _   
_Love, Rhodey

_ Dear Peter Parker, _   
_ I only very recently found out that you were Spider-Man. I want to thank you, not because you’re Spider-Man, but because your heart is so pure that you had nothing to lose and still didn’t want any of the credit. I applaud you. You’re the best of all of us. _ _   
_Steve Rogers

_ I knew the moment we met. Wish I’d said something. I understand completely. It’s hard. Reach out to me if you need somebody, it’s always okay. _   
_ Your friend, _ _   
_Bucky

_ Young Spiderling, _   
_ Life gets better, I promise. Stick around to see it happen. _ _   
_Thor x

_ Peter, _   
_ I read your note. Never apologise to me ever again. That day was hard for me too, but we both got through it, just like you’ll get through this. I believe in you wholeheartedly. You’re my friend and I don’t want to see you hurt. You’ve been through enough pain for a million lifetimes, it’s okay to give yourself a break. It will be okay, I promise. _ _   
_Love, Bruce

_ Kid, _   
_ I understand. I’m here. Please talk to me. We need you. _ _   
_Nat

_ Hey pete, _   
_ Not really sure what the protocol is with this kinda thing. I’m so sorry about what happened. I should have never been talking about it in the first place. I’m _ _ so _ _ sorry, kid. I hope you feel better soon, I’ll be around if you ever want to talk. _ _   
_ _ Clint _ <strike>(p.s no hard feelings about webbing me up in a cupboard</strike>)

_ Hey Web-Head _

_ Please don’t do that again. I know you feel terrible and I know it was a way out for you but please God don’t try and leave us like that again. You’ve been my friend for years and over the last few months of getting to know you, the real you, I’ve grown to love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. _

_ Kid, Peter, like Steve said, you’re the best of us all, please let us show you how much you mean to us. We all love you. I want to be there for any way I can. I swear, we’ll do anything. _

_ Always here, _ _   
_ _ Tony x _

Peter couldn’t help the sobs escaping him. Tears streamed down his face. 

He’d always felt so… unworthy. Unworthy of his powers, unworthy of friends, unworthy of happiness. He’d always felt like he didn’t deserve anything good, he was just a 24 year old man from Queens, he’d lost everyone, he’d put people in danger, he’d ruined lives.

But there he was reading message after message from people he could have only dreamed to know and they were telling him he was important, he was wanted, he was _ loved _. He wanted more than anything to believe it and for the first time in years, that little voice in the back of his head that constantly filled him with doubt was completely silent. 

He was there. He was in the hospital. He had survived. He was loved.

He felt completely in the moment, there was no dissociation, there was no anxiety. Only a warm and full feeling of complete hope deep in his stomach.

“Tony!” Peter hiccuped through his sobs and the hospital room door inched its way open as if Tony had been stood directly outside, guarding him.

“Helpful or detrimental?” The older man whispered as he closed the door behind him.

“Helpful.” Peter smiled through his tears and Tony returned it.

When Peter had calmed down slightly Tony sat at the end of his bed.

“I know this will take some time.” He looked lost for words and Peter stayed silent while he found them. “I know it will take some time for you to realise that everything that was said in that card is true and that what you wrote in the note isn’t. I understand your brain will try and fuck it up for you and it’ll lie and sabotage. But Peter, you’re the strongest man I know, you are not your mental illness, and we, the team and I, we’ll always be around to help with whatever you need. We want you around for the long haul.”

Tears threatened to choke Peter again as he tried to speak and Tony sat patiently while he found his voice again.

“Thank you. I-I don’t know what else to say but just, thank you and I’m sorry.”

They sat there for a long while, reminiscing about fights from years ago, gossiping about the goings on at the tower. It was nice, it was natural. Even through the crushing sadness and guilt that he felt, the feeling of hope had still not dissipated. He was hanging on. He could do this. He was going to make it.

After 2 hours of chatting and 3 cups of coffee Tony’s phone went off. He glanced at it before smiling back at Pete. 

“Are you feeling up to a visitor?” 

Pete was confused and his face must have showed it, but he nodded regardless.

“Come in!” Tony yelled in the direction of the door. 

And then there _ he _was. In all his suited glory.

Wade Wilson, holding a bunch of flowers. 

“I brought pie.” Wade whispered and Peter burst into tears once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peep the sneaky Sherlock reference lmao


	9. Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade knows how it feels. He wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sup fellas, it's been a very long time since I last updated this and I really apologise for it. The last time I took a haitus it was because my mental health was bad. This time is the opposite. I got promoted at work, I got a boyfriend, life has been hectic and time consuming and good.  
But alas, now we're in isolation, so back to writing I go!  
This isn't the best chapter in the world so I may go back and edit it, but for the meantime pls enjoy :)  
Love you x

Wade Wilson knew what wanting to hurt yourself felt like. He understood completely how it felt to be so alone and so overwhelmed that pain was the only thing that helped. 

Wade understood it, but he never thought he’d be blamed for it by Spider-Man. 

He’d only come to the tower for a meeting with Tony, he was simply there to discuss how the progress with Spider-Man was going. All he wanted to know was that Spidey was okay. 

Instead of Tony, a man he’d never seen before stood before him. The man was tall and slender, with a wild mane of brown curls and the deepest brown eyes the mercenary had ever seen. 

“Peter?” Clint had questioned.

Wade was silent as the man yelled at him. He was silent as the man screamed and cried and blamed him for telling Spider-Man’s secret. He was silent as the man fell to his knees and told him he was all he had, one of the only people he spoke to. 

Wade  _ wanted  _ to speak. He wanted to apologise, to tell him that he never  _ meant  _ to hurt him, that he was only trying to  **help** . But he couldn’t. His mouth opened but the words just wouldn’t come out.

Yellow was laughing at him. The box’s voice yelled and cried and mocked him and, for the first time in a long time, the only thing he wanted to do was pull out his gun and shoot himself in the head. 

The man pushed them into a closet, Wade didn’t fight back. He didn’t move as the man webbed their hands and feet together and he didn’t try to speak when he webbed their mouths closed. He couldn’t  _ think _ while Yellow was screaming obscenities in his head and Clint struggled next to him in the dark. 

The man was Spider-Man. Clint had called him Peter. Spidey blamed Wade for everything and he couldn’t even be surprised. All Spidey had said was true. It  _ was  _ his fault. Wade  _ had  _ told Tony Stark about walking in on Spidey cutting himself, he  _ had  _ set off the chain of events that had made Spidey have a complete and utter mental breakdown right in front of him. 

Wade was worried, he felt guilty, he needed to help. 

But he couldn’t move. The reality of the situation broke the stasis he was in. 

He tried his hardest, broke all his fingers to try and twist his way out of the webs, dislocated his elbow and bit through his lip, but nothing. The webs were strong and contracted whenever Wade managed to stretch them even slightly. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been before Tony had found them. He’d lost track of time by that point.

Wade finally found his voice and begged Tony to let him help find Spidey when Clint had managed to get the story out, Tony refused. And so Wade had nothing to do but wait, again.

It was 6 hours before he heard out any news.

Spider-Man had tried to kill himself. He was in the hospital. He was having surgery. 

But he was still  _ alive _ . 

All Wade’s instincts told him to go to the hospital, but he couldn’t help feeling that Spidey wouldn’t want him there.

He’d been sitting in the towers main living area for hours now, head in his hands, trying to wrap his brain around the situation,  _ trying  _ to get Yellow to  **shut the fuck up** . The hours felt like days and, with nothing to do but dwell, the merc was going stir crazy.. 

Spider-Man was Wade’s conscience, his moral compass and, most importantly, his best friend. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality that had been set in front of him over the last few hours. Even with Spidey’s self-harm, he just never expected it to go this far. He seemed so happy, especially recently.

[You should have known better.]

[You should have known it was a lost cause from the start.]

[You should have killed him when you had the chance.]

[He probably would have thanked you.]

“You okay?” A tentative voice broke through Yellow’s incessant chatter. He lifted his head to see Captain America and Bruce Banner sat on the sofa opposite him.

{This is where you sat months ago when you asked Tony for help.}

[This is where you destroyed Spider-Man’s life.]

{Peter, his name is Peter.}

[Petey-Pie wants to die.]

Wade shook his head and tried to rid his mind of the voices that would never leave. Bruce and Cap took the head movement as an answer.

“Clint told us what happened.” Steve said, his voice was solemn. “We thought you could use some company.”

Wade couldn’t help the small burst of laughter that came from him. His life had always been far from normal, far from what a regular person would describe as ‘good’, but he’d always tried to make the most of it. Even when he was so far in his own head that shooting himself was the only answer, he still knew he’d come out of it. Shooting himself nowadays was just the mutant equivalent of getting black out drunk.

Even after Vanessa had been killed and he’d been left in a black hole the size of jupiter, he’d been surrounded by people that believed in him, a support system.

Wade had ruined Spidey’s only support system.

“It was my fault.” Wade whispered, his teeth clamped together.

[Of course it was your fucking fault. When is anything not your fault?]

“It wasn’t.” Bruce matched his volume. “No one could have seen this coming.”

“I should’ve!” The words fell out of Wade with more force than he intended, it made Bruce flinch. “I knew about the cutting, I knew how he was feeling, I knew about the suicide attempt a couple of years ago. I knew about his family. I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have told anyone. I should have dealt with this alone. If I’d dealt with this between the two of us he wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

[You shouldn’t have dealt with it at all. Should have killed him on that fucking rooftop.]

{Stop it.}

“No, he wouldn’t be in the hospital right now, he would have been in there months ago. He’d be in a coffin now. You did the right thing in coming to Tony. You wanted to help, Wade. You can’t blame yourself for helping the way you thought was best.” Steve’s voice had an annoying charm that made Wade want to punch him. 

Wade had known Spidey for years. 

And now he was real. He was tangible. He wasn’t the faceless piece of perfection that Wade had painted him as for far too long. He was real and he had issues and god-fucking-damn it, Wade wanted more than anything to wrap him in a hug and never let him go. 

He’d never really admitted it to himself before. Especially after Vanessa. But with Spidey’s life on the line, he could finally say it.

“I love him. I’m in love with Spidey. I have been for years. And he wants to die.” He wished his mask was on. He wished he could hide the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He wished the boxes would leave him the fuck alone.

Bruce placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and Wade let out a laugh again, even through the tears.

“His name is Peter Parker.” Bruce said softly. “He probably needs a friend right now.”

Peter. Peter Parker. What a pretty name. Wade Wilson. Peter Parker. He’d always loved alliteration. 

Neither of the heroes stopped Wade as he stood to leave.

\----------

Finding Peter’s apartment was easier than it should have been. 

Of course his original instinct had been to go to the hospital, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind that Peter wouldn’t even want him there and at that moment all Wade wanted was to feel close to the Spider again.

Peter’s apartment was quaint, small and clean.

Wade moved through the kitchen, the fridge held half a pie and a six pack of beer, it didn’t look too dissimilar to the items in his own fridge. 

The apartment was open plan, the kitchen flowed on to the living room which held a small sofa, a coffee table and a television. The living room flowed onto the bedroom which simply held a single bed, a bedside table, a desk and a laptop. There were no decorations, no pictures, no discernable way to tell that a 24 year old man lived there.

Wade could see the bathroom out of the corner of his eye. Wade didn’t know the details of Peter’s suicide attempt, but he did know Peter. He knew he’d want to be comfortable and slip away quietly. Like stepping into a warm bath. 

A warm bath.

{Don’t go in there.}

{You know what you’re going to see. Don’t do it.}

And he did know what he was going to see, but it definitely didn’t stop Wade from creeping slowly towards the door and inching it open.

The blood was startling against the white of the rest of the bathroom. It pushed all the breath from Wade’s lungs. He’d seen blood millions of times throughout his life, he’d seen dead people more times than he could count. But  _ this _ , this was different.

Vanessa’s dead eyes filled his brain.

The blood of the man he loved filled the bathtub and was splattered on the floor and the lower parts of the walls. The rug that lay at the foot of the tub was stained dark with dried blood. Peter’s blood.

Wade wasted no time in reaching into the tub and taking out the plug. He knew that once this was all over that there was no way Peter could deal with walking into an apartment covered in the proof that he’d tried to take his life. 

Blood was difficult to clean. Wade knew this, he couldn’t count the amount of times he’d had to clean his own blood from the walls of his apartment. But Wade was whole now, he was mentally healthier than he’d ever been and now it was time for him to take care of someone else. Regardless of Yellow’s incessant attempts to make Wade break down, he was strong, he was  **steady ** and right now he needed to help in any way he could.

He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, being careful not to snoop too much or move anything that seemed important, not that there was much to be moved in the first place, Spidey seemed like a real minimalist. 

It was then that he spotted the folded paper on the desk, resting between the screen and the keyboard of Spidey’s laptop.

Wade didn’t mean to read it, he really didn’t, but some nosiness just can’t be helped. 

_ And Wade. I’m so sorry.  _ _ <strike>My hands are shaking as I write this.</strike> _ _ You’re incredible. I never meant to blame you, I don’t actually blame you at all. I’m sorry for shouting. Tell Clint I’m sorry too. It wasn’t your fault, none of this is your fault, it’s mine I swear. I don’t want any of this weighing on your conscience. I don’t want Yellow to persuade you that any of this is on you.  _ <strike> _ Fuck you Yellow.  _ </strike> _ I’m just sorry.  _

_ You were my first friend. You saw the worst of me and still wanted to talk to me. That day with the cherry pie will be on my mind until the moment I slip away. It was the happiest I’d been in years. You’re my best friend.  _ <strike> _ Maybe even more than that. In all honesty, I think I could have even fallen for you. _ </strike> _ I don’t blame you for telling Tony about the rooftop incident and I don’t blame Tony for telling anybody else. The whole thing was weird, it’s something to talk about, I understand. You wanted to help. It’s okay. This isn’t because of that.  _

_ This is nobody’s fault but my own. I’m sorry.  _

“God, he wrote a note.” Wade whispered to himself. He called Tony Stark straight away.

\---------

Deadpool was always taller than Peter thought he was. And seeing him standing in the doorway of his hospital room with flowers in one hand and a pie in the other somehow made him look even larger. He filled the frame but Peter could see, even through the mask, that his smile wasn’t meeting his eyes.

He couldn’t help but cry, not even a subtle cry, no, the type of sobbing where there’s snot and hiccuping and your eyes get so red that they burn. Peter’s emotions were raw and he’d never felt so vulnerable before. Not even when Wade found him on the rooftop all those months ago. 

Everything was out in the open now, everybody knew everything and now there was no use in hiding. Peter hated it, yet he somehow felt a strange feeling of satisfaction knowing that he no longer had reservations in showing his emotions.

His two favourite men in the world were in the room with him. He was okay, he was safe, he was alive. 

When his sobbing had subsided Tony bid Peter goodbye, only after assuring him that he would be in the hospital dealing with paperwork and would be there if he needed him. It was sweet, seeing Tony being so caring. Peter found himself once again wishing that he’d let Tony know his identity sooner.

“How are you?” Peter asked in the silence of Tony’s departure. Wade still stood ungracefully by the door, his awkwardness was palpable. It had never been this tense between them before and Peter shuddered with discomfort. 

“You’re in a hospital bed and you’re asking me how I am?” A small laugh came from the mercenary, but he didn’t answer the question.

“Yes, how are you?” Peter didn’t back down. He needed to know that Wade was okay. 

“Spidey…” Wade’s head twitched to one side. The boxes, Peter thought. 

“Wade.” His head snapped back towards the younger man.

“Sorry, White.” He explained. “Your name is Peter Parker, you never told me that before.” 

It wasn’t what Peter expected Wade to say, but at this point he knew that he needed to explain everything he could.

“I never thought it was relevant before now. You knew Spider-Man, I never thought you’d want to know  _ me _ .” 

Deadpool dropped the flowers and pie to the ground. 

It took him two large steps to reach the foot of the bed, his hands grasped Peter’s ankles through the covers and the weight grounded Peter completely. It reminded him of the first hug they’d shared months ago, he felt at peace, he felt at  _ home _ . 

“Peter, of course I want to know  **you** . I’ve wanted to know you for years, the fact that you’ve graced me with your friendship for this long is a fucking mystery to me.” Wade removed his mask. “The fact that you’re willing to talk to me after I told Tony what I saw on the rooftop is fucking barbaric.” 

“Tony told me about the conversation you had and when you had it. I asked you not to tell anybody after you’d already asked for his help. I understand now, Wade, I’m not angry. If anything,  _ I’m  _ sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way that I did, this wasn’t your fault. My brain…” Peter pointed at his head. “Sometimes it has a way of distorting things. I know you just wanted to help me. I’m grateful. I just wish I’d been able to understand sooner.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Me too.”

Wade was silent for a little while, Peter could see he was having trouble knowing what to say. He didn’t want that, he wanted him to be comfortable.

“Lie with me, Wade. Just for a little while, so I can sleep.”

And so he did without question. He sat down next to Peter, pulled his legs onto the bed and lay back against the pillow, pulling Peter against him as he did, making sure to avoid his arm and any IVs. 

The younger man’s head rested against his chest as he curled himself into Wade. They were both taken back by how natural it felt and Wade was suddenly aware of how tired he was too. He waited until Peter’s breath had evened out pressed his lips lightly against his curls.

“I love you.” He whispered before finally letting himself drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be on recovery and all the hardships that come with it. I promise not to make you wait as long this time. <3


	10. To be loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spidey goes home, recovery is tough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'sup fellas.  
I'm not sure whether this will be the last chapter or not! I might write another one if the inspiration takes me so if anybody has any ideas on how I should wrap everything up don't hesitate to leave a comment!  
Trigger warning as always, this chapter is a little hard.  
Love you x

Recovery was harder than Peter could have ever imagined. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why they even called it that - recovery. He didn’t feel recovered. 

Sure, he had friends now and people to talk to and people that finally knew him for him, but that didn’t mean his brain didn’t constantly sabotage every single thought he had. It didn’t mean he was better. It didn’t mean he was  _ normal _ .

He had been out of the hospital for a week before he finally stopped crying every time Tony looked at him. Tony was his friend, his mentor, and now whenever he looked at him all he could see was pity in the older man’s eyes. It made normality so much harder. The Avengers had set him up a room in the tower, his own bedroom and before he’d made it back from the hospital they had filled it with decorations and superhero memorabilia. There were pictures on the walls and books and a mini fridge filled with Peter’s favourite brand of beer, the same beers he and Tony had shared all those months ago at his ratty kitchen table. 

He was safe, he was being looked after and yet he  _ still  _ felt like he was overstaying his welcome.

He always felt like a guest, never like one of the family, never like one of the Avengers. They’d all told him multiple times that he was welcome to stay in the tower as long as he wanted, indefinitely if he so chose. But through all the therapy sessions and the time spent trying to pull his life back together, he could still feel his control slipping.

It was another month before he finally felt able to leave. He couldn’t be a spare piece anymore, the Avengers needed normality as much as Peter did and with him there it felt like everybody was stepping on eggshells. He left the tower without saying goodbye, packed his things and left a note thanking them all. It was better to creep back into anonymity quietly.

His apartment was much like he’d left it, empty, small and cold. The bathroom door was closed and Peter couldn’t help but feel grateful for it. He didn’t think his brain could physically cope with seeing the proof that he’d tried to drain his own veins. He was safe, he had friends, but he knew that seeing the blood would take over his mind all over again.

The thought was excruciating...yet so tempting.

Peter knew there were still 5 unused blades in his bedside table. They called to him.

When he’d first come out of hospital he’d promised Tony he’d never cut again, he swore it to both him and Wade that he would never open his skin again. 

He shouldn’t have made that promise. 

Wade knew. He’d told Peter not to make a promise he wasn’t 100% sure he could keep. At the time it offended Peter, how dare somebody think they knew better about his own body and mind. But he realised now that Wade was right. The need would always be there, at the back of his mind, making him itch. His stomach was tight. The call was back.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. He was  _ supposed  _ to come home from hospital and be a brand new person, all whole and better. He never anticipated that he could slip back into old habits so easily. 

The bathroom stayed in his line of sight as he closed the door behind him and dropped his bag onto the sofa. He crept slowly further into his apartment, his footsteps silent yet his ragged breath filled the quiet. He didn’t know why this was happening to him again. He couldn’t stand to see the mess he’d made but something in him, right at the back of conscience, urged him to keep walking, to see what he’d done to himself. The long scar on his forearm was proof of that night already, but he’d not seen his own blood in over a month and he almost couldn’t keep himself from opening the bathroom door.

The bathroom sparkled white. 

The blood was gone. The bath was empty. The rug on his floor had been replaced with a new, black shaggy one. The smell of bleach caught Peter’s nostrils.

Who? Why?

Wade.

When Peter had woken up from surgery he vaguely remembered Tony telling him that Wade had been to his apartment, that he was the one who’d found the note. Did he also clean his blood? Did he know Peter would feel like this?

Peter had barely seen Wade while he was living in the tower, per Wade’s request, not his own. He told him that Peter should spend some time on himself getting better, talking things through with a therapist, that he would give him space for the time being, but he would be there whenever he needed him. 

It turned out that Peter didn’t have enough spare time to need him. He slept a lot in the early days and his waking hours were filled with therapy sessions, or movie nights with Bruce, or talks with Nat or Bucky, or lab work with Tony. 

Not that Wade wasn’t on his mind constantly, because he was, he just never had time to act upon the thoughts. He was distracted. Now the distractions were gone.

Wade was at the forefront of his brain now, right alongside the need to slice open his skin with the first sharp object he saw.

Wade would understand, right? He’d been here before, right? His therapist had told him there would be ups and downs but Peter never imagined he would feel everything this intensely so quickly, he never imagined he could go back to where he was before so fast. 

Only one thing was different now. Peter was hesitating. Before there would have been no delay, he would have walked to the bedside table and pulled out the blades without a second thought. His skin would be open and his blood would be flowing. He missed how beautiful the inside of his skin looked. It was always so gratifying to mar his flesh with deep scars. Making the outside match the inside. 

The need was so strong that Peter was having a difficult time standing.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and text Wade.

  * Are you busy? If you’re not, can you please meet me at my apartment?

He didn’t even think anything of it, part of him didn’t even process the fact that he’d text Wade. He was still falling, further and further into the pit that he’d just returned from. His head was spinning and he slid to the floor by his bed. 

The bedside table was directly to his left. His hand slipped over the handle to the drawer without thinking and pulled it open.

He could just do it. 

It would be so easy, like stepping into the arms of an old friend. 

His fingers twitched and before he knew it the box was in his hands, open, 5 blades shined in the low light that came through his bedroom window. He picked up one with shaking fingers. They were light stainless steel, designed to slot into a scalpel handle and used by surgeons. Peter had picked them up for ten dollars on Amazon. 

Slowly Peter used the pointed end of the scalpel and lightly traced along the vertical scar from wrist to elbow. He didn’t press down, just let the blade leave a slight white line as it came in contact with his skin. 

He was hesitating again. Why?

The voice at the back of his head screamed at him to do it. Another voice screamed at him to stop. A dilemma. His brain had never told him to stop before.

** _Do you still want to die?_ **

It’s a question he’d not really asked himself since coming out of the hospital and the thought knocked the wind out of him slightly

Peter had only ever known pain. He’d flirted with death his entire life and never been able to follow through. Did he just carry on now? 

Did he find new things to keep his attention? Did he find hobbies and friends and  _ try _ ? 

Or did he take the easy way out, keep cutting, keep fighting with people he loved, keep secret and sad and eventually just wither away into obscurity?

It would be so easy to just let himself slip back in, to press down on the blade, to fade from consciousness, to dissociate from reality, to panic so much that the only thing that would help was seeing his own muscle. He almost missed the time when he had nobody in his life, giving in was so much easier when he had nobody to care about him. 

Now here he was, blade in hand, alone, his skin bared. And he was still hesitating? What was he waiting for?  _ Who  _ was he waiting for?

_ Wade _ .

Peter realised then. 

He was waiting for Wade to take the decision away from him. He was waiting for him to burst into the room and be his knight in shining armour. He was waiting to be  _ saved _ .

He didn’t like that.

Why should it be on somebody else to save him? 

Why should somebody else have to take on the burden of his issues. He wanted to press down, he wanted to so fucking badly. But he knew he shouldn’t. Peter had never thought something like that while he was in a state like this before. Usually his brain is so focussed on the blood and the act itself that he has no time to think about the consequences of his actions.

But there Peter was, blade in hand, thinking about how badly this would make Wade feel if he walked in. 

Peter rolled down his sleeve.

He couldn’t let go of the blade yet, but rolling down his sleeve felt like a step so monumental that his breath caught in his throat. The tears started falling.

He had the choice, cut or don’t and he chose to roll his sleeve back down. 

A knock at the door startled Peter and soon Wade was walking into his apartment. He stayed sat by the bed, blade in hand, clutching it for support. If Wade had walked in on him cutting it would have killed Peter all over again, he couldn’t do that, not to Wade. 

“Spidey? Peter? You in here?” Wade’s timbre echoed through the empty apartment and immediately brought a slight smile to Peter’s lips, even through the tears.

Wade caught sight of Peter immediately as soon as he entered the bedroom and wasted no time in running to his side, it made Peter’s heart jump. He was still in his suit, must’ve been patrolling when Pete text him.

“Peter, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He wiped the tears from Peter’s cheeks. That’s when he spotted the box of blades on the floor and carried on speaking before Peter could respond.

“Oh babe, it’s okay, I’ll get you cleaned up, we can get you some help, it’s okay.” 

“No, Wade. I didn’t.” Peter managed to choke out. Wade pulled his mask off and looked at him with obvious confusion. “I didn’t do it.” 

Peter couldn’t help it. He laughed. He, honest to god, burst into laughter. Wade still stared at him. That made Peter laugh harder.

“Wade, I was going to.” He spoke between fits of laughter. “I really was. I had the blade to my arm. I was so ready to do it. And I just didn’t. I thought of you and I didn’t do it. For the first time in years, something made me change my mind. You.”

Peter put the blade he still held down into the box with the rest of them, closed the box and put it back in his bedside table. He’d gotten past it. He’d done it. It was a battle that was nowhere near won, but he’d won this first fight.

His laughter and tears died down. He was okay. 

“Spidey, I am so proud of you. Don’t take that to mean that I’m not proud of you if you relapse, because I still will be, but holy fucking shit Peter, you’re incredible.” Wade smiled at him, big and bright, all white shining teeth in the low sun. 

“Thank you. I’m proud of me too.” Peter smiled back and pulled Wade in for a hug. He was always surprised whenever he hugged Wade by how utterly natural it felt. Wade was always warm and firm and always had a strangely charming smell of gunpowder and coffee on him. 

Peter loved him. He knew he did and at that moment he realised he would do anything for Wade. But that was a conversation for another time.

“Want a beer?” Peter whispered in Wade’s ear before he kissed his ear lobe tentatively and revelled in the shiver he felt from the larger man. 

He pulled himself to his feet and padded to the fridge where he knew 6 beers were waiting for him. When he turned, Wade had spread himself out on the sofa and was ordering pizza. Pepperoni. Peter found himself hungry for the first time in over a month. 

Was this what it felt like? To have friends and a family and to be  _ loved _ ?

The feeling was overwhelming, but holy shit, it was so fucking good.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self harm is an issue that millions of people deal with, it works differently to each individual. Through this fic I have tried to base it off my own issues with self harm, but I understand if you feel completely differently! I hope you guys are all being safe and healthy in quarantine. I love you xox


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